Highs, lows

I came back from Boston, worked a little while, then decamped for Hawaii, hunky scientist by my side. We stayed on the Big Island two weeks, first exploring a volcano and lava fields at chilly, higher altitudes; then focusing on the undersea world and coffee farms at low, warm sea level. Everywhere it was humid. My skin and hair were the happiest they've ever been. We relaxed, ate fruits we've never seen (farmers market in Hilo=well-fed tourists) and bought an obscene amount of coffee so when we got back to the mainland we could be sure to maintain our SF stress levels. All in all, great fun and we got back in high spirits. Which were immediately quashed by the news that my mom's lung cancer is back. Chemo (a different drug, FDA-approved in '93 for use in relapsed ovarian and small-cell lung cancer cases) starts Monday and will happen weekly until relapse or that other fork in the cancer path. Mom says not to worry, that she has a good feeling about this treatment. She's bumming because it's taken her two years to get a decent crop of hair back, and now she's going to be a cue ball again. I am genetically predispositioned to worry, and so am working on maintaining calm. Perhaps I'll write about the nature of cell phone calls, the life-changing news we hear being conveyed and received all around us every day, as we buy our coffee and New York Times; as we walk to the gym; as we buy our groceries; as we finally, on a post-vacation Friday morning, iron the shirts that have been sitting in the ironing basket for weeks, using hot iron to smooth the wrinkled cotton and steam away the small, constant drops that fall to darken the pattern as we listen and talk.