On this day...

...one year ago I was punched in the neck and poisoned...for my own good.

They cut me open and inserted a catheter into my jugular. They manipulated the tiny hose until its tip touched just outside my right atrium.

Cutting a flap into my chest, they inserted a Medi-Port, attaching the other end of the catheter.

It's still there.

I'm still here.

On this day one year ago my chemotherapy began.

It started with "pre-medications"--drugs assigned to help me survive the side effects of the "real" drugs to follow.

It continued with Taxol--a drug so toxic that they will not administer it via an IV. It is corrosive to most tissues. During a later cycle a suspected leak necessitated that my nurses wear double-layers of gloves, masks, and haz-mat gowns.

And that was the easy one.

And so it continued.

And I'm still here.

- - -

The past year has been extraordinary.

I experienced the best in people; the worst shattered me.

Love buoyed me up, even as poisons debased me.

Rendered inhuman, I wanted to die...even as I fought to live.

I fought. Every. Step. Of. The. Way.

I went places I never wanted to go. I don't want to return to them, but I'm still here. So, I must. In my own way; in my own time...to honor and respect and acknowledge.

And live.

I'm still here.

- - -

The past two months have been extraordinary.

2014 runs the same course as did 2013. Months of questions and answers and more questions and fewer answers...

Tests and scans and consults and doctors and hospitals and mile after mile and day after day listening and talking and seeking hearing searching--without and within--brought me to a cusp.

I needed to make a decision--one that defines the remainder of my days.

And made that decision.

- - -

One year ago today I started something I knew could kill me—expecting, hoping, it would save me.

And it did...

...so far.

It brought me to my lowest. But, I'm still here.

And you know what I am about to write...

I've got this.