The conclusion I have reached is that, above all, dogs are witnesses. They are allowed access to our most private moments. They are there when we think we are alone. Think of what they could tell us. They sit on the laps of presidents. They see acts of love and violence, quarrels and feuds, and the secret play of children. If they could tell us everything they have seen, all of the gaps of our lives would stitch themselves together. [Carolyn Parkhurst, The Dogs of Babel]
I was something that lay under the sun and felt it, like the pumpkins, and I did not want to be anything more. I was entirely happy. Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep. [Willa Cather, My Ántonia]
Today is my last chemo, for this round. I don’t depend on this; I’ve learned that my “progress” determines the “process” and there’s litle “progress” to BE gleaned from the crazy whacky dance of How Chemo Affects Currie, save by blood tests and what they indicate or prescribe.
So it goes.
I love you, Currie