I took Tom back to Cornell for his sophomore year today. He had two tennis teammates staying over Thursday, and they all went and picked up his roommate, Gabe, from the airport and to a Cubs game Friday, and then all stayed Friday night. The teammates left at 7 a.m. Saturday, and Tom, Gabe and I followed them at about 7:30.
Dropping Tom off as a freshman was a little emotional (but in a Winge, don't show any feelings way) - I didn't really get teary until I saw Tom walking with his classmates for a new student convocation (and even then, it was just me, so nobody saw me).
Dropping him off as a sophomore ... well, I'll miss him, of course, but it was so good to see people calling out to him, and see how happy he was to be back. It was a pretty quick drop-off - I waited up in the guys' room while they brought their stuff up, then Tom walked me back down to the car and hugged me goodbye. Then I had 2 and a half hours in the car by myself. I listened to a little First Wave '80s music and then switched to one of my favorite playlists on Spotify - the "Story of Us ... So Far" from Jeff. It's music from every band we've seen together, along with a few songs we've deemed classic. It was a good mix of my own Cornell-era songs and songs that bring back awesome concert memories.
(Oh, hey, this post isn't cancer-related, at least not directly. Just thoughts.)
One of the things I thought about on the drive was scars. Well, OK, I thought about my doctor's appointment next week, and the surgery that likely will follow, and how, after my first cancer surgery, Jeff and I went to Panama City Beach and sat on the beachfront for a week, drinking and reading. But it made me start thinking about the scars I have.
My first scar is really two - the marks from the C-sections that gave me Tom and Jen.
Next, there's an appendectomy scar, followed by a scar by my left collarbone from a car crash. Then the scars from my old football injury - I broke my ankle getting to a Vikings-Bears game. They had to reset it with a plate and screws, and later, had to go back in and get all that hardware out. After that, there's a scar from my gallbladder removal.
I've got an inch-and-a-half scar at the base of my throat from a hyperparathyroidectomy. I remember being really self-conscious about it, figuring I'd wear turtlenecks and scarves for the rest of my life, until that got too hot and I figured if my little throat-slash scared people, they could just look away.
Which brings me to the numerous scars I've accumulated this year. The biopsies didn't leave scars, but the lumpectomy and lymph node removal left two angry-looking welts under my left arm. The insertion (and the eventual taking out) of the chemotherapy pump will be another scar, and the location of the mass on my right side will leave a scar close to the middle of my chest.
I'm a mess. But I'm feeling pretty good. =)
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