Last night we settled in for bed around 10:45. Roger quickly drifted off to sleep ( I think he was pretty pooped from the adventure out during the day). For some reason, I was wide awake which is a rarity for me as I am usually asleep before I even get into the bed. So I had the rare occasion to reflect on the day and generally unwind while I lay there listening to Roger breath. I thought with a smile about the fact that every evening we do a dance, perfectly in sync....every evening since we've been home from the hospital, after the antibiotic drip is done, while the feeding machine whirls away, we start our dance. We gather up all the pain meds, the cleaning supplies and syringes, our cell phones, sweatshirts, etc and make our way to the stair case. This is the start of the dance. We slowly make our way up the stairs in a deliberate, artful dance up the stairs. Roger leading and me following with his IV tower. There is a brief pause at the top of the stairs to gather our breath (both of us)...and then go into the bedroom to buckle down for the evening. Inevitably, I have forgotten one or more things and have to continue the dance by myself as I make my way back downstairs to the main floor at least 1-2 times before I settle into bed. No music plays - just the rhythm of the house at night. I know its silly, but I consider it a dance rather than a routine.

Roger had a great night for sleep....over 5 hours of solid uninterrupted sleep. He woke once from pain and took some pain medicine and then went back to sleep for another several hours. I figured we'd both be feeling like super heroes today from all the sleep. It was pretty amazing. I still can't believe it. I'm hoping we have a rerun of last night! Cross your fingers.

We recently heard someone say on TV that one "date night" a month is worth a 100 vacation days. Roger turned to me at that moment and said, "ever night is date night for us. We'll get back to it". I responded with "every night is date night. There is nothing to 'get back to'. We both gave each other a small, but knowing smile and went back to our own thoughts.

Today was another good day. Hopefully we are setting a trend. We went for a walk around the block. It took a lot out of Roger but he did it and celebrated the moment. Later in the day he went with me to get some water for our saltwater fish tank. I know it may not sound like a lot to the "average" person, but to someone who's been through as much as Roger its HUGE.

Every day....a little bit stronger. Every day, a little better.

I wanted to share with you a difficult moment for me this week. A friend of mine from work lost her father this week to his battle with esophageal cancer (the same cancer as Roger). Hearing the news was particularly poignant and particularly painful for me as I thought that this could have been Roger.... or this could have been my dad. Another friend and I went to the visitation - it was in a small community in northern Indiana. As we waited in the receiving line, which nearly snaked out of the funeral home, you couldn't help but be touched by the outpouring of support from the community for my friend, her father, and her family. Of course it doesn't erase the loss, but I have to believe it puts a small bandaid on your heart. The closer we got to the front of the receiving line, the more I searched my brain and my heart for some sort of words of comfort. I found that all I could say was how sorry I was - how sorry I was for their loss. It was hard to reconcile the fact that Roger and her father had been diagnosed with the same cancer at nearly the same time earlier this summer and yet the outcome was so vastly different. Roger had in his favor that his cancer was diagnosed early. My girlfriend's father's cancer was much further advanced and thus limited his options for treatment. My heart nearly crumbled when my girlfriend's mother gave me a big hug and said how happy she was that Roger's prognosis was so positive and that she wished things had been different for her husband but was at peace knowing that he no longer suffered. I, who am never at a loss for words, didn't know how to respond. All I could say was that she was a beautiful person, with a lovely family especially my girlfriend, and that I too was happy that her husband, my girlfriend's father no longer had pain or suffering. I still have an ache in my heart for them and an ache in my heart for the "what ifs" that could have been Roger.

My soap box which I haven't been on for a while: GO SEE YOUR DOCTOR. GET YOUR CHECK UPS. If something doesn't feel right about your body - get it checked out. If there is a health risk in your family, use that "warning" and go get yourself checked out. Detection is half the battle.

Sorry this was such a heavy post tonight. It was a week full of raw emotion. ~ angie