Thanksgiving

This Thanksgiving I am very thankful. Thankful and filled with gratitude despite being a widow and a cancer patient.

I am grateful for Dr. Munshi and Tina Flaherty, APRN at Dana Farber for their expertise in and careful study of multiple myeloma and the treatment of it. And for their kindness and responsiveness to me and my questions and queries.

I am thankful to be living in an era of mostly uneventful autologous stem cell transplants. Grateful for this therapy and the destruction of cancer cells that it allowed.

I am grateful for researchers, and yes, even pharmaceutical companies, who continue to develop new drugs to treat my cancer, two in the last week alone were approved by the FDA. One of these is an oral (pill) form of the maintenance drug I currently have to go to the clinic to get by injection. So this one will make a difference for me in the near future (as soon as it is available locally).

I am grateful to be employed by Yale University and for my co-workers who allow me to continue to work (and get paid) while I take care of my health.

I am grateful for the love of my close friends and family and the support they give me.

I am grateful for the kindness of all my friends, far and wide, both near and far, from old friends who I don’t see very often, and those I am privileged to see much more often, and those I may only “know” or “see” virtually, here or on social media.

This is the first thanksgiving in many, many years that I am not hosting. My daughter Sarah is hosting her first thanksgiving in her first house, which she moved into only a few weeks ago, and pregnant with her first child. We’re splitting the cooking. And as I “pass the torch” in a small way, I am grateful that I have, and we have, all the precious memories of thanksgivings past, when Ken was alive, feeding 3-4 dozen people, hikes in the valley, high school football games, grandchildren visiting, and crescent rolls (for the last time, year after year).

And I am grateful for Scot, who is present for my day to day, my ups and downs, my low moments and my highs, and my whining and complaining. He never panics, never lets me overdramatize, makes me laugh (and laugh and laugh), tells me I am beautiful (even when I am sure I am not), remains eternally positive, feeds me and occasionally, when I need it, reminds me to be grateful, which I am.