An update about a rather rough day. It turns out that they were able to drain Susan’s kidneys (well, one, anyway, but it’s enough), and she has lived to fight another day.
I’ve always hated roller coasters. Even as a kid, or maybe especially as a kid, they scared the bejesus out of me. I never really understood the exhiliration or the excitement of careening defenseless in a screeching metal cart atop a teetering pile of steel-and-wood toothpicks, fighting the physical urge to puke fried dough on the people behind me.
The roller coaster metaphor has long since passed into cliche. “That was a real roller coaster ride” simply means that there were emotional ups and downs. Cancer for us has indeed been a roller coaster ride, but more in the sense that I have always experienced them. Wary tension at the beginning quickly escalating into heart-clawing terror as you realize there is a gut-punching drop immediately ahead, followed by a long stretch of hurtling uncontrolledly, getting thrashed about, then the long climb where you’re actually feeling pretty good – hey, look…
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