I am now officially able to plot my departure for Oregon. At the oncologist's today, my mother received the bad news/good news talk that we've heard before. The tumors are growing again, and her tumor marker continues to rise. But two drugs remain in the arsenal, and she started one today. I was assured that the disease would make no radical downturns in the next two months, even if she did not respond to the first drug.
As I told Mother today, "Don't forget: you had ten times this much cancer in you before you even knew you were sick."
The house is in high gear, what with route planning, Small Child's summer camp/activities selection (this all had to wait until we knew which state we'd be in), gear collection (where is my bike helmet?), and wardrobe organization. I'm paring down this year as there's a chance I'll be driving home in something less bulky than the Silver Minivan. If so, my cries of joy will ring from the redwood forests to the Gulf stream waters.
My big decision? Dare I drive with Large Dog and Small Child? Or do I repeat last year's plan and find someone to fly out with her? Fuel prices are, alas, impacting the decision. I've been waiting all year long for those five or six days of solitary road bliss, with my dog's sweet sleeping head on my lap and the westbound road ahead. Am I selfish because I don't want to spoil it with whining, even from the lips of one so dear?