a radio was on.

Let me not bury the lede. My oncologist emailed me today in advance of next week's appointment to tell me that he received the results of the genetic testing and the test identified the EGFR T790M mutation, which means I can start a new drug on Monday that will likely give me another year, or more, of life.  Bury the lede.  That is when a story fails to emphasize the most important part of the story or account.  In journalism, the lede refers to the introductory section of the news story that is intended to entice the reader to read the full story. The spelling lede is an alteration of lead, which makes sense, because shouldn't the main information in a story be found in the first, or lead paragraph.  Some newspaper folks spell it lede, which distinguishes it from lead, which also happens to refer to a thin strip of metal separating lines of type on a Linotype machine which really hasn't been used since the 1970s.  Lede is insider spelling, or romantic spelling....

Let me not bury the lede. My oncologist emailed me today in advance of next week's appointment to tell me that he received the results of the genetic testing and the test identified the EGFR T790M mutation, which means I can start a new drug on Monday that will likely give me another year, or more, of life.  Bury the lede.  That is when a story fails to emphasize the most important part of the story or account.  In journalism, the lede refers to the introductory section of the news story that is intended to entice the reader to read the full story. The spelling lede is an alteration of lead, which makes sense, because shouldn't the main information in a story be found in the first, or lead paragraph.  Some newspaper folks spell it lede, which distinguishes it from lead, which also happens to refer to a thin strip of metal separating lines of type on a Linotype machine which really hasn't been used since the 1970s.  Lede is insider spelling, or romantic spellin...

The thunder came rolling in this afternoon, sweeping out the heat with a hurry of breezes. I sat on the front porch to bear witness. The bog has been sweltering.  The air is heavy and the heron sits motionless, like a statue daring the dogs and the geese to swim close, imperious.  You could miss him so easily. I was at the bog the other day with my mother and my Aunt Rose and there was an unruly man with his unruly dogs.  They were upon us, unleashed, raucous.  Sebby, our puppy, scrambled for protection amidst my feet, and soon there were something like three dogs in-between my legs, one barking sharply.  And the man mumbled and pulled out ineffectual dog treats, and we women were like three nineteenth-century novel's heroines: put out, affronted, highly annoyed. Eventually the situation somehow righted itself, and we went off down the path, self-righteous.  This is the problem with no leashes, we said with our straight backs--it's the owners who don't have...

The thunder came rolling in this afternoon, sweeping out the heat with a hurry of breezes. I sat on the front porch to bear witness. The bog has been sweltering.  The air is heavy and the heron sits motionless, like a statue daring the dogs and the geese to swim close, imperious.  You could miss him so easily. I was at the bog the other day with my mother and my Aunt Rose and there was an unruly man with his unruly dogs.  They were upon us, unleashed, raucous.  Sebby, our puppy, scrambled for protection amidst my feet, and soon there were something like three dogs in-between my legs, one barking sharply.  And the man mumbled and pulled out ineffectual dog treats, and we women were like three nineteenth-century novel's heroines: put out, affronted, highly annoyed. Eventually the situation somehow righted itself, and we went off down the path, self-righteous.  This is the problem with no leashes, we said with our straight backs--it's the owners who don't ...

I think I hurt the feelings of the dear friend who referred to this time as the end of my days, and I want to apology.  I really meant to say that even me, with stage four cancer, can't bear to think of this time as the end of times.  Like Gloria Steinem.  And that maybe that is odd to people looking in from the outside.  but you know, my friend was right. the cancer is back--I found out at the oncologist's on Friday.  so mysterious this disease--it's like a shadow on a gray day.  so I'm not going to California for now.  I have a couple of weeks here where we will find out what my treatment options are now--they are narrower but there is some hope I win the genetic lottery and qualify for a different targeted therapy,  Of course I will let you know.  I'll send up a flare for help, or a discreet fireworks to celebrate.  Look to the night sky.

I think I hurt the feelings of the dear friend who referred to this time as the end of my days, and I want to apology.  I really meant to say that even me, with stage four cancer, can't bear to think of this time as the end of times.  Like Gloria Steinem.  And that maybe that is odd to people looking in from the outside.  but you know, my friend was right. the cancer is back--I found out at the oncologist's on Friday.  so mysterious this disease--it's like a shadow on a gray day.  so I'm not going to California for now.  I have a couple of weeks here where we will find out what my treatment options are now--they are narrower but there is some hope I win the genetic lottery and qualify for a different targeted therapy,  Of course I will let you know.  I'll send up a flare for help, or a discreet fireworks to celebrate.  Look to the night sky.

I recently got in touch with a friend from a long time ago--really, lifetimes ago, back when I was a young graduate student at Princeton, about to make a series of decisions (to marry young, to have my first child, to move across the country away from my PhD program) that would set me off down a road of motherhood and work that roll up to the fact that I have never, not once in my life, gone on any vacation by myself, let alone leave my family for ten days, as I am about to do when I go to California for a cancer retreat.  But I digress, as per usual.  The friend wrote me back and said something like I hope when I reach the end of my days I also--hold up, who the hell cares what else he said, the  end of my days ? does he think I'm at the end of my days? Because I don't think I'm at the end of my days. Or is this like people yelling support on the sidelines near the end of the marathon: people who cheerfully trill out "you're almost there!"-- a sentiment which...