My dad insists we live among angels. He maintains that angels aren’t confined to otherworldly beings. Some exist with flesh and blood. They are imperfect but have one perfect moment in which they are in the right time and right place. For some, they might have a series of moments. I’m hoping I’ll have at least one perfect moment in which I can be somebody else’s angel. That I’ll be in the right place at the right time to help somebody. As opposed to my habit of wrong time, wrong place. But that’s a topic for another blog probably dealing with my own psychoanalysis. Or just a private journal entry.
chemotherapy
The Bad News
Bad news. My mom was undergoing another round of treatment and she was not doing well. But we still had hope the new regimen could work. Even though she looked like she felt miserable. Her treatments were once a week 187 miles away in Utah at the Huntsman Cancer Institute. But she wanted to be home especially after being stuck in Utah all summer during her previous treatment. It was a dismal summer for her being away from her home it took her 47 years to create. So this time, we sent her to Utah once a week and let her be in her home as much as possible.
ck's days 