For the past few weeks I've been corresponding with a woman who had been following my blog since her husband was also battling prostate cancer. Her husband died quicker than was expected a few weeks ago, so she is in the early stages of grief.
So she and I decided to talk on the phone and get acquainted. I fully expected this conversation to be more crying than talking. Last night we talked for close to four hours and there were no tears, it was all laughter as we told each other story after story of our journeys with prostate cancer. I'm sure anyone listening to these stories would be shocked to hear us laughing like that but for us it was like therapy and the laughter felt so good. (For instance, Marshall would spend hours being totally engrossed in watching Spanish TV and would get upset if I wanted to go back to English; or he once was out on the deck on a very dark and quiet mountain night and said he saw a motorcycle gang circling our house; or he would try to use the cordless telephone as a TV remote; not so funny to the average person but to us last night it seemed hilarious). It was a huge release and I'm sure she and I will talk again.
The photo below is a walking path that is practically out my front door -- very pretty. So today I finally decided to take a walk and get my pacemaker used to me actually moving around. The cardiologist said to go slow with exercise for a few weeks so it was a leisurely walk -- took 20 minutes to walk around this pond -- and very enjoyable.
Things are getting better every day and when I scatter Marshall's (and Coco's) ashes in July it will be easy to give up the "crutch" that this blog has provided me.