Holy Pottery Barn, Batman!

The last few days I have been resting nicely. Other than the dull ache, the dizziness from the pain pills and the tingling in my arm (minor nerve damage from taking out my lymph nodes)- hell, maybe I could have forgotten I was "recovering". Except for the gifts. I've received flowers, chocolate covered strawberries, books, blankies, cards- every day it's like Christmas. And every time something comes, I am reminded that there are people out there who care and are thinking of me. It's a nice thought.

Case in point. I write for a living. Writers, by nature, are a little overworked and underappreciated. This lends itself to a touch of bitter cynicism. Sarcastic, inappropriate humor- sure, that too. Perhaps it's too much time listening to our own words and the hum of a computer. Maybe we don't get out enough. Maybe we're just bitches- whatever.

Until something like this happens. I have been in awe of the wonderful people I work with. The people who normally put up such a good front at being tough and not giving a shit about anything. These people have offered prayers, family members, themselves- anything to help one of their own. I am truly blessed. I had once joked about registering for cancer at Pottery Barn- who needs flowers when you can have a terrarium lamp? They not only took this to heart, they sent me this more than generous gift certificate. I will now be able to forget about cancer for a few hours and enjoy some retail therapy. They knew, as so many have, that the way to make me feel better was to remind me that I have a whole life outside of cancer. A house, dogs, a script to write- life goes on.

So thank you. Thank you for the thoughts, the prayers, the good wishes. Thank you for the presents. Thank you for the phone calls and the cards. Thank you for reminding me why all this is worth fighting for. And you writers- yeah, you. I see you lurking at the keyboard. I know you're really warm and fuzzy at heart. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone.