When I was young, I thought that if I were alive at this age, that things would be so different   than they are. If I saw this back then, I’d think at  that is some kind of a joke. I had always seen myself as the healthy strong one. I would have seen myself as working a very long time- after all with the kids out of the house what would i have envisioned myself doing with all that time? Just as I grown up to see women with no husband as being sad people. I didn’t see them as unworthy of that kind of love. I just thought how sad it all seemed. I couldn’t imagine being alone like that. Now women without a husband but with children, they didn’t seem as sad or lonely to me. After all they had known that kind of love- romance. As in my naeivity I believed the conception of a child most assuredly had to have happened out of a dear romantic love. But to have neither children living with her ,nor a spouse, well that just seemed so empty . When in fact it was a life quite fully lived. Of course that still in and of itself feels lonely… the lived part. It means it’s past, behind her…behind me. Ah well then surely I’d take every advantage to spend my life in a purposeful fashion. Perhaps as a nurse in a mission somewhere or  in the Peace Corp. Or maybe being active politically. I could have seen me taking on a had been  a colorful career but by many it would seems so cause. I could see me in an adventure with my fellow Green Peace or on the ranges in the west striking blows to help the wild remain as such with the majestic horses to roam freely. At the very least I’d have an animal sanctuary, wouldn’t I? Okay well then if not that, wouldn’t I be living at the shore finding my soul enriched by the sights and sounds I had begun my adult life ? I’d have maintained my dear friends from that time and be spending time making music with my friends and enjoying the Jersey Pines and the sea shorel Yet here i was a state away- not to work in a particular facility or in a specialty or in cancer research as I once thought I would… a professional goal. No I never did attain that. No here I sit writing a blog I can barely see My body fights with me at every turn. I have been put out to pasture professionally.I am of no more use – as who wants a nurse who tires out so quickly, whose memory is in such question, who can barely see a syringe let alone read it, Who needs a nurse who cannot walk for any distance- whose best hurry speed is something surely a 4 yrs old could out run? No I had to let go of those things as time took charge wherever allowed. Had I not fought hard enough. I tried to stay in the field as I felt the onslaught for decades of what would one day be running inch by inch matching and over taking my strides. I had given it a run- a good run. By many standards it was insufficient and unfocused, undriven..too given to the winds to channel it at will. And it was, in terms of keeping it in the place of my life’s work. I had let that go for a family and music and lost focus financially. So here I am in the remnants of a lifetime of intended  accomplishment. Had I saved anyone? Had I made a difference at all/ These are the questions I wrestle with in looking back.

I never was the kind of mother women stood in awe of wondering how they juggled it all and had raised super children. I hadn’t given them the childhood they deserved to have had. And I was so fortunate to have had children so smart in and of themselves that academically they carried themselves to where they felt compelled. I have a beautiful granddaughter who I rarely see- what with the distance and my no longer able to drive. (That part makes me angry.)

My husband’s kids have grown up in the ways they deemed best as grown kids do. They both have beautiful children we rarely see- we don’t truly know. This I feel has been a sad failure on my part- to not have been more of a part of their lives.

The great novel will in all likelihood not be written by this gal. I would be lucky to read it- written by anyone. These hands no longer cooperating and I I am not inclined to just sit back content that I have taken the mare up in the pasture as high as she was meant to travel. I won’t believe this race is yet run. I refuse to believe there is no more than this already. It isn’t the length. It is though the fact that with more time left i will not see it as having been lived in its entirety- that I should just sit and wait for death’s cold hand to guide me on. NO that is not how I will end this life’s journey. I may stumble and fall alot. I may have to rely on wheels more than I care to- but I am not signing off. Not this life- not on my watch. SO if it may hold enough meaning for you to want to go along then be swift, we’ve not a moment to spare!!


WHat’s right in front of your face is not likely all of the story. It’s whatever you’re brave enough to see.

One would never have guessed what brought about the changes. Her mind had been made up. She had reached the point that there would be no more. Her next plans would take her far away- from the pain, from her joys, from those most precious to her…yet it seemed this was what she needed to do to come together,and have her kids in the best place for them at this point. Few would understand her decisions and fewer still would forgive her for them. Yet there she was all of a sudden having had that conversation with her youngest about how , no matter what he says to her, this is not, this will not be her dog, our dog, her home, our home…no matter how good his intentions, he’s proven over and again that he cannot keep up that end of things that he wants to make happen for them but won’t.There they were in the car and just as she says,” No matter what I am not going to allow myself to get attached. I just can’t do it anymore.” The words no sooner left her lips than she felt a gentle but firm pressure on her left shoulder.  As she turned her head so slightly, their eyes met and there  in a split second, she knew her heart had gone already. From that moment on she knew her heart was again placed in a most vulnerable position- both with this dog and with this man. There would be a number of times she would revisit this moment. Still found herself again moving forward in the relationship, in her work, career . In a few years later they bought a house, got married. It was around that time another piece of undone existence of something he sworn had been done surfaced. She felt sick. She felt it but had told herself that man he became wouldn’t bring that…her…back into their lives- or had she ever really left?   Not this bullshit drama again. She couldn’t.. She wouldn’t  go through it again. Her heart ripped further to think of leaving this dog – just as badly as in thinking of taking her from him. There would be no good action here. Sure more promises… this time her heart was not coming together. She determined to stay no matter what. It made the most financial sense and she was done forcing herself further down the abyss of poverty because of her emotional self sabatouge. When her resolve weakened, she would think of the animals when it felt to hard to make it one more day. Time went by basically had become roommates. Truth be told that seemed true before the last large blow out.Had it ever been right since reconciling? Had he tried to wash himself of her feel, the memories of her? It was washing over a woman who gave all of herself  to someone who didn’t seem to want that. She began to hate herself as much as it seemed he hated her. She no longer cared. He felt she was unlovable and would try to re-establish a romance but it was not to be.  WHy not? the cat died and the dog’s heart was broken. Another dog was brought in to help her heal. This brought back memories of when the other one had died- when she was left to bury their pet with 2 broken hearted daughters while he enjoyed a “business” trip, a weekend with his secretary again- the mistress. He resented any reference to that time- as though it was a one time lapse in judgement. He never git what it was like for her- probably because he couldn’t do it- or maybe because it tarnished his armor to think of himself as anything less than a knight in shining armor.

The years became less kind to her. Her health took a deep dive into a chronic progressive disease. More dogs came into the home . Her struggle worsened and he now stood by his not having a marriage with romance because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings….oh no , that was the reason he gave that they couldn’t speak of why things became that way. She was fighting for everything in her life. She signed over basiclly everything financially to him- his decisions. He spent all of her settlements on the house- having again promised to set up the kids with some sort of accounts and to pay off a long standing dental bill that he had used the money for something else for years ago. Yes, she left him do it and for that shame on her.

Tragedy befell them as the oldest greyhound, the first, his Wisper, became seriously ill one night and at the appointment at vet’s it was determined she be  euthanized. The main thrust was that if she hadn’t been ill, then Wisper could have been given weeks to see if she would ever improve- but she wasn’t well. Wisper’s fate was sealed. He wouldn’t admit that he never got over the loss of his love. Perhaps because she had been a gem from what was once. Perhaps because without her, he too felt less of a bond with this woman. He felt even less motivation to get along with her kids. He felt less- except for his lost dog.   She felt his pain and was helpkess in saving him from it. This was thr end of a time together unique to those involved. It was a different trio… of was it? SHe’d never know. Years later her illness worsening and becoming more than one diagnosis. He never really dove in to discover what was happening to her. He seemed uninterested- didn’t look to how to help other her other than make  changes in the house.

Her symptoms continue to slide. There is great concern- well to drs and her daughters and niece, but not to him as to what is happening to her in terms of cognitive function at night. It’s more than the bits of forgetfulness now. He didn’t know what these other occurances were about or why they were/are scary and what is happening to his wife. Maybe the distance he keeps growing between thim is to spare him sadness or decisions. Soon they may well be thrusted upon him. She looks around the room that looked so foreign earlier this week when she woke up one day. He didn’t know. SHe didn’t share it. She has to wonder if he is waiting to have her placed- freeing him.

Valentine’s Day and the usual gifts. which used to bring her to tears. She was left with a heartache at things she couldn’t talk with him about. She couldn’t begin to explain. And he didn’t care. He didn’t bring up that he was given nothing. A breakfast which to her was an accomplishment- the significance was lost to him. He had no clue. And if she pointed out what it took and why it meant something to her, she would just be reminded that it didn’t mean that to him.

He had no clue how it hurt her to not feel that warmth in her chest at the gifts. She couldn’t tell him any of  it as she listened to his seeing how beautiful the dogs were. How another photo of more doge was brought in. She wondered if he’d even remember her other than a story of how he saw his “sacrifice” of staying with her had been, He doesn’t know and likely won’t- not in this lifetime.


If it is the children who suffer, is it they who are also those rewarded?

Ah but his was not the only journey being lived out here. He was not the only one whose life was so touched by that of this other. Infact when he went to see about fostering a greyhound he had taken them, this woman who wasn’t sure where or how or if even she fit in his life at all anymore and her youngest, a child caught in the conflicts adults left in their lives. She was a child who had lived through the disallusion  of her parent’s marriage. She had seen this newer familly relationship torn apart for the second time- the second time far more hurtful than really either time before, it would seem. She prayed for them to reunite, She wanted to experience that feeling of being wanted and valued. She wanted to give her love in turn in a special way to a special inncent being- and in the giving perhaps there would be a healing she could bring to another of God’s creatures. In her lifetime she had already learned that there were few who stood in absolute innocence- and those few became fewer as people grew older. Accountability was something she was taught early and had seen in action in the lives of the adults she loved, in the adults who would readily die for her to have a better life. Somehow these two adults seemed on the cusp of stepping forward to repair the damages, learn from the experiences that had ripped their hearts and family in pieces. This seemed like a tall order. How nice it would be to have the pieces transform from the heartache, the pain,  into something meant to be felt, to grow from and to grow in. For her , that something had long been the aspiration she saw in her desire, her passionate want of a furry creature who spoke mostly through body movement and through eyes. She missed her cats and wanted a dog. SO here we were in a car with the man who while brought healing and love into their lives had also brought heartache and  shredded every bit of faith in the security a family has in one another. This was a responsibility her mother held the banner for in the front of the heart break, self sabatouge parade they had been living. Still he asked if they cared to come along. Her mom went through a litany of explanations to her so she would understand this was not her dog, they were living apart. This was just his way of bringing some joy into her world by giving her someone to play with, someone to love who wasn’t likely to let her down as the grownups in her life had done. Having never seen greyhounds in person and now seeing them all in a group in a fenced yard trotting and pacing about was an incredible amount of dog input. She had hoped “we” would get the tall male, majestic  young male black and white- but this was not to be. (You see, those who came to adopt had first choices among the dogs while those who came to foster any had the job of waiting to meet dog for them to teach about being a pet and about life off the track and away from the racing world. For these animals it had been their entire life up to this point and while they’d come to love their new lives, it had to be at best unsettling at worst terrifying for them.) As youth is in its resiliency so often does, there was a rapid recoup with a hopeful watching of dogs and people and leashes all moving and talking together about the process, checks written to the cause who saw to it there was another life awaiting these dogs beyond the impersonal life they’d known as the athletes they had been. (Makes the Soviet Union’s approach to olympic training look like an athletic preschool.)Finally this red brindle coated shorter than nearly all the rest if not all was standing there and looking so cold. shivering.He had taken her leash and the look between them had ensued. She didn’t want to get hurt and failed miserable at not falling in love immediately with this four legged furry, beautiful face with colors and marking that would put the best of women made up to shame. It was official this dog was the one this partial family would take home to begin to show her a new side of life. Warming up in the car, her eyes were clearly taking in more if her surroundings. The car was a small foreign bucket seat. The young girl and the dog had already begun their relationship. Giggles and soft voices filled the car with an ambiance of safety. Then the silence was broken by a scared cry of concern and fear for something, someone other than herself. The adults quickly sprung into action. The dog’s tail had been partially amputated , apparently recently enough to be freshly bleeding . Now with her tail bandaged with paper towels found from the nooks, crevisses in the car. It would do for the rest of the journey home.

This little girl had not seen any dog as this in SO many ways. There was the very large crate. Oh and before hte crate came the steps to the deck on trailer. These dogs have no idea what steps were. They had no experience with them- and had to be taught how to walk both up and down. This was only the beginning of this dog’s specialty course of Not Everything Need be Scary or dangerous She would not be alone in the lessons of life. Wisper would have her work cut out for her. From the times of climbing down on the floor and showing her how to put dog toys in her mouth to play to those times of treating her with love and compassion and patience that would yield this wonderful canine being. The cat established that SHE was the one in charge having been there as part of this family for the long haul. Misty and Wisper had a unique relationship. Misty had shown far less patience than the human counterparts. Still she had never given up on her younger charge.Once we got Britt to stop climbing into the dog crate that much of things made Wisper’s transition easier. She understood that this was her safe zone where she would not be prodded and such. It was hers- like nothing else was up til this point. There would be no crate sharing here- no double crating above the male dogs. No having to protect her food from another. For good, bad, or indifferent ( and I would later understand it would be all three for her.), Wisper’s life had in that one afternoon become changed, different from anything it had ever been.

We  often find ourselves in uncomfortable situations that we are unaccustomed to, situations that make us uneasy or make us aware of how  much of a foreign experience something is. We do only a number of times in this life find ourselves to be in a place where we are thrust into a situation where we know not one person there or have none of our familiar surroundings or schedules. It is an experience few know as completely as these dogs do. ( ALthough my son’s first month or so at college definitely felt like that to him when he told me.”Mom, don’t  wait with my sisters until they are going away to college as the first time they are in a situation, a place. a time where they are all they know.” I was surprised as he had been the child moved around the most out of the three of them.Now we laugh about it all.)

My little girl had cherished, played with, consoled,been consoled by her. One thing you notice in a child though. Once they have experienced the loss of a dear dear furry friend, there is a part of themselves that they keep staying in the corner. It is their best attempt at trying to keep from being trampled on in the mayhem of loss, grief.This is a barrier seen for what it is often early on…but as is the case with so many loves in life- eventually love breaks through regardless of our bidding. This little girl was one tough coolie. She was filled with hutzpa which she needed in her youth filled with health issues.( She was always brave, yet it was as an adult that I saw her greatest of courage.)

As Britt grew her time together with Wisper was lessened- although was still cherished and special in their way of closeness. They could be found embraced under a blanket or on the deck or on the driveway sunning or reading. There would be hurts -both physical and mental or emotional that Wisper would set to healing. Wisper would lie on or next to any specific area of injury. There would be the comfort only a dog can give to the broken heart.

They both shared a beauty which would always be stunning. They would share a grace of movement that they could not appreciate as welll as those of us who watched.

Whether a challenge of some sort lost or those high school heartbreaks, Wisper would be there waiting to care and in those moments I swear I saw a healing happening to Wisper as well. When Wisper was fairly new to life in our home, the girls would play on the floor for hours with Wisper. They taught her how to roll over- and she taught herself the glory of lying on her back – in full cock roach position. This was both cute and hysterical to watch. Those barriers Britt wanted to keep up to protect herself could not stay for the duration, no matter how fought that battle was made.

And in the end, the lessons born on the back of heartache, heartbreak would be invaluable in terms of knowledge that Britt would draw upon to help both herself and others. It is those gut wrenching tear your heart apart times where the strengths you need to help anther or yourself are just immeasurable. Animals can bring out the best in us- if we have souls that allow. The souls that left her in, would find the pictures of her to be speaking to her for very many years…for as long as the paper upon which they are carried last. These are eyes none of us will either forget or lose in time. They are the precious memories of a young girl who all too often just couldn’t keep up… a girl who became a woman who made sure in her life’s work that no one felt left behind when their bodies could no longer keep pace with the time left to them on this earth.


The cost we’d never ask be paid

He carries her photo with him at all times- both in a wallet that no doubt has seen better days but also in his cell phone. Nearly every wall in the downstairs of our home holds more than one image of her beauty.
She was so photogenic- never a bad photo of her to be found. Her eyes held with in a beauty, a depth of wisdom. i used to think that the she held the secrets to life in those eyes. Years of knowledge
He had developed a special bond with her right from the start. She had chosen him as much as he chose her on that chilly autumn day. She had made the trip with a dozen or so other greyhounds in open crate-like cages from Carolina. Autumn’s chill had began and I couldn’t imagine what that had to be like with the wind blowing over their skinny bodies, no way to warm up or ward off the cold. Eventually Kenny was handed her leash while they all had walked around a bit. He had held the leash of others while those who came to adopt, chose their heart’s desire. But this moment belonged to them. It was as though all the sound in that back yard became muffled and less loud. It was so fast, unintentional for what I had taken it for in the moment. But in the quiet fresh farm air. As Wisper leaned into him- I’d later learn this was one of the things Greyhounds do- thought to be a show of affection. She looked up into his face with a whole life’s conversation. It really was magical and meaningful in ways that would she would take her entire lifetime to focus on unfolding. Her mission in her lifetime was to please Kenny. Her purpose was to love and be loved. Her soul was every bit as beautiful as her gorgeous brindle coat- which I dubbed bengal as in watching her flawless poetic movements, I could easily imagine her in her natural wild habitat,stalking from behind tall grasses. Of course the truth was that our cat, Misty who was also an adoptee ,would be the one to teach her to “mouse” in play. She also showed her how to fetch but never for long training periods..as no cat would care to devote such time showing she cared to some large somewhat unpredictable animal who seemed both terrified and yet drawn to her in all manner of curiosity.
Wisper came at a time of healing.He of course named her and chose the spelling after a time at the park. He denied anyone else’s input but he never got how it was written all over his face every time. Yes, this dog would have her hands full with the healing of these people and their hearts. All of these people in her new family thought that it was they who would love her out of the suffering she had endured. She was about to teach us more about greyhounds, people, family, life, and love than we could possibly have taught her. She had her work cut out for her. this was a family who knew about struggling, pain, loss, betrayal, heartache. This was a family still working through re-establishing trust. this was a family in separate homes- in more than the physical way.
Wisper’s patience with us all was a fine example of what could be possible with some understanding. As strange and foreign every single thing but her crate was to her, in so many ways she assimilated into the family probably more smoothly than any of the rest of us. This was the beginning of a journey that I’d never have missed for anything.


Unspoken doesn’t mean unsaid.

When so much hangs in the balance, we tend to look about the prospects hoping the positives will bring us home. But there are times that no matter how hard you strain to hear what you hope, the words never come through. It is in those times we  are left to find a way to lift ourselves up.

i’m not stupid. The changes in his voice come through loud and clear. His denying protests lack that ring of sincerity. It is no wonder- but there is heartbreak. We are not that old . We could be alive in every manner of speaking. That is not the life he wants, he pretends.

Still these thoughts run through my mind. I am not proud of them. And the fact that he has not left seem to be what is to keep me from wanting anything more in this relationship. Maybe that should be what I find as satisfying- but I don’t. I feel like a hideous ugly burden that he disdains any time I seem to look for anything in a marriage other than friendship- or a roommate. My heart breaks again. Do I speak again with him to see what he thinks- but I already know. He doesn’t care that this is how I feel. He was  saying that this is how it is and will be. ALot is left unspoken…but truly has been said.


As the worlds fall down

I sit and listen to the weather forcast in one side of the room, while  my husband (an 18 wheel truck driver) argues with a fellow trucker. The young driver believes his job is in the balance because his dispatcher illuded to the fact that there is a line of truckers looking for work and would be happy to take his job. Most people by our age know how those words go. They say enough to make the employee feel insecure, yet stop short of saying something that would hang their job in the balance. The kid thinks he will lose his job if he refuses a load which will place him in the winter storm’s path where 10+ inches are expected. My husband explains to him that HE is responsible for his choice to drive or not- that the liability in the end lies with who is behind the wheel when something goes wrong. If he is in an accident, it is on him. I feel myself bite my lip.i’ve heard this conversation before, usually between my husband and his dispatcher. It seems good dispatchers think of the loads ,the schedule, the drivers, the road conditions, the use of company money in terms of fuel. And when it’s not someone who understands the nature of the delivery system, the safety of people and property, then you have an idiot who tries to bully his drivers to do his will, Somehow he seems to take this as a personal reflection of the size of his balls. If they are, it must be said that his brains however.are less able to be measured given their location which is likely too far up his *ss to be  properly visualized.

Anyway, I have cringed as I hear less than flattering comments on their presence on the road as well as off the road. People tend to forget that truckers are people… people who are loved, cared about, family. People flap their lips as though no one could be affected by what others say. Well they ARE human. They love as passionately as the next person. They care about others and are as apt to help a stranger as anyone else, if not more so. They are more willing than most to get involved when someone needs help- with their vehicle or on the side of the road, in a truckstop, thousands of miles from anyone who could help. I know because I have been on the being helped by some of them- and no, not my husband or anyone he knew. These men and women are the modern day cowboys on the concrete pastures that span this country.

My husband gets off the phone, shaking his head side to side. I listen. I agree- and I think how many people tonight think they must do one thing or another or lose their jobs. I guess what I wonder is what makes up being “made” to do something. What sort of delivery makes someone think they are emergency worthy in such weather conditions. While my husband goes about his business, I mutter something under my breath about the kid needs to grow a pair and just politely refuse the load and say it is not going to be safe. . and don’t like what I see or hear when I have heard truckers brag about what they’ve driven through safely. FOrtunately most don’t mistake risk taking for being competent or brave. There is nothing cool or admirable to those wives (and husbands) who try to stay bust in hopes of avoiding sitting by the window watching the snow- what once looked so pretty and peaceful that then becomes such a threat to who they and their kids love. There will be prayers- regardless if your spouse is out there, you know someone’s is.You pray for those emergency workers who have all seen too much horror than any one life should have to bear witness. They who have all been the face of an angel ‘s wings in times of pain, fear, and utter solitude. My husband spoke with the other driver, reasoning with him until exhaustion. At that point he closes with the fact that nobody can make you do this-unless they have a gun to your head and come along with you. Hanging up the phone his face bears the lines of someone who has aged trying to reason with someone who has convinced themselves beyond reason. He has done all he can to get the kid to understand that he and only he will be responsible and accountable for his choices that bring him the results of his doing them. He reminded him that his life is NOT worth $200…or rather than what amount of money would be worth giving up his life?

I pray the kid uses his head and stays off the road- but I have  doubts that He will not be alone in this and I dread the News tomorrow. This guy does not get it and will likely do whatever he’s told by someone who has no idea just what he is expecting of these drivers. It’s very sad how the upper levels of these companies are concerned with the bottom line, finances. They say they are concerned for safety but want the employees who will make them their money. They cover their backs with safety seminars but the very men who have the drivers watch these films violate them frequently. They wouldn’t see it as such. But they haven’t been behind the wheel. They don’t even know the roads, the routes. They know only the times loads need to be picked up and delivered. I look out to the skies. Where we live the storms haven’t gotten here yet. (A couple are to hit one after another.) The dogs sense it coming. They put their noses to the air sniffing. Soon the flakes will fall in that dance on the sir twirling as it moves through and lights upon those who have fallen before. More words will be spoken. They too will swirl through the air as they too drop with whatever has been said before. When beauty is held within though the sight of the individual pieces. It becomes a scene a visual conversation.


if my brain bleeds call the dr?

You couldn’t make this stuff up. Well, you could. Someone did and that’s what is mind blowing. My husband has joked for a long time about those tv ads for medications where they run off the possible adverse reactions. If you really listen to them, you can’t help but ask , given that kind of possible reactions, who would take the stuff. Like isn’t the problem less distressing than the side effects?

For the past few months, I have been having testing in order to begin a drug which is meant to help stop my white blood cells from attacking the myelin sheath on nerves in the brain and spinal cord. Now there are a number of meds. I took 2 different ones before this. Those were injections. This one is a capsule. Feeling much like I did when I started the others…just off kilter, dizzy, weak,nauseous in waves,and who could forget body aches and diarrhea?AH the fun stuff. Of course the vital signs are all good. Now here’s the cute part. I am taking this for a chronic progressive disease which carries, dizziness, trouble walking and talking, nausea, muscle weakness. The cute part? These are symptoms common on any given day in this land of ms. That’s smack dab the main road in Neuroville. There’s the side effect of flu…seriously flu? Flu-like symptoms? Oh no the real flu because this one lowers your immunity by locking up those WBC components in the glands. Great. Oh and what’s that fine print tucked away in the middle of the pamphlet where most people have stopped reading and is the only place I saw it mentioned? Oh lymphoma in the complication section…or was it the adverse reaction section, I can’t remember. But wait they follow that with no statistics at all- none on occurance because it couldn’t be determined how much of a factor the med might have been. Well let me think, we’re stopping a percentage of lymphocytes and neutrophils from leaving the lymph glands, taking them out of the peripheral circulation. so there are fewer available left to attack brain and spinal cord. Like how dangerous could that be,blocking up lymph glands?  Ha! Don’t get me wrong. Lymphoma is serious stuff. I was a nurse. My son battled Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.. It’s just the way they seem to tuck it away, hidden away.like a dirty little secret they want to downplay. Give it all to us. , all of the data so we can make a fully informed decision.Be clear about the numbers of people you’re talking about. Using small sounding per- centages over the how many in 10  makes it sound like they’re so rare, The deaths attributed to the drug  being unclear because of a comorbid condition or a particular med. Hmmm I think they should be included in the full disclosure. Well business rolls along as it does.. Sick people seek what they can that gives them hope. Sick people try what they can. They try what gives their family hope, what makes their family believe in them. That may sound unlikely- but it honestly is.