Here is your "C" card...and don't forget your gift bag.

Prompt: Write about something you learned how to do.

An excerpt from my 10 year old son's recent school paper:

"Tip! Tap! Here, I'll give you a hint...if we didn't have it, we would crawl. It's walking. It starts with standing. You need to stand before you walk, and you stand by sitting down first and then putting two feet on floor. Now, balance yourself upright. It's easier than it sounds!"

Here's mine. Recently, I have learned how to accept peoples' kindness and support. I'll echo C and tell you that it's easier than it sounds! For example, today, I had my second opinion appointment at the big cancer center, a place I secretly call in my head Cancer R Us. Ken had his first day of classes today and he has to be tired of being my rock so I didn't want to ask him to go to yet another appointment with me. I totally prepared myself to go alone, but several friends offered to go with me and I am super glad I let one of them. For one, she knew how to get to it. (Cancer R Us is about an hour away.) For two, in the waiting room, there were lots of couples...mothers and daughters...husbands and wives...mothers and sons...single women with ipads. Let's just say, I was glad to be a woman and her friend and not lady in corner with her Kindle. (Thanks, Nancy!)  It's emotional. Many of the women have no hair and unlike my local car care center, they don't have People's Court blaring on the television. It is quiet and sad.

I got checked in. I got my cancer gift bag. (Seriously, they give you one packed with flyers about living wills and counseling. It's the kind you might would use at the grocery store to be green. Only it is pink and screams cancer. Don't want my food touching it.) After much wait time and lots of good girl conversation, I met with the big super cancer doctor...who basically reiterated everything my first local breast surgeon told me a month ago. I still have cancer. It is still three distinct "islands" in my left breast. It is still lobular and stage 2 and yes, the boob has to go, and no, we can't definitively tell you if you'll need radiation or chemo. Won't know until surgery. Same, same, same. Still good to know AND two more unknown people got to see my boobs. Winning yet again.

I reflect on how great it was to have Nancy there. I just started this journey and already I have lots of cards, flowers, a massage gift certificate (!), a house cleaning gift certificate (!), itune gifts, casseroles promised, and many, many prayers. I have been given a mixed CD (the modern version of a mixed tape) and a peach package and I receive at least ten well wishes a day through email and text. Ken jokes about the "C" card and how it certainly has its benefits. This morning as he was ironing his shirt, we joked about all the things we could have people do for us. For example, Ken needs all his shirts and pants ironed, and Caleb needs a costume by next week so he can be Johannes Gutenberg in his school's historical timeline.  Buddy needs to be groomed, and next time he pukes which could be now, someone needs to come clean that. The baseboards are disgusting and I wanted to repaper my bathroom, and the kids need to be picked up and dropped off and Caleb needs someone to tell him how to spell "enchanting" or whatever every few minutes...but all these things have to be done in an "Anna" disguise so I still have a presence in my kids' life. That's it, right? I need someone to live my life most days (even when I am not sick or depressed), but the thing is that I want to live my life. That's the point of all this treatment. Still, I appreciate all the love. Thank you, thank you, thank you.  I appreciate every phone call, every text, every Facebook note.

Now...I need someone to write thank you notes for me...with my handwriting.