Necrosis? Yes.

The results of the MRI are in. I have necrosis in my hips, and a 25% compression fracture at L4. The next steps are to find out how to modify the Dana Farber Protocol to prevent any more damage from steroids, and to involve an orthopedic surgeon in determining how to repair the damage that has taken place. Yes, I may require hip replacement surgery. The irony? The past few days I've noticed significant pain reduction.

I'm upset, I suppose. A little sick to my stomach. I think it is the word Necrosis—it is gross. The main vein in the hip just didn't supply it enough blood and now part of it is dead. Part of me, inside me is dead. I'm part dead. A zombie? Oh well. Had I not taken this treatment I would be all dead. Everything I get beyond leukemia is gravy, right?

I had a very special pal in Arnhem Land. She suddenly took ill and died in a matter of months. As she deteriorated, I found it harder and harder to let her go. I would say things to try to convince her to stay. I'd say, "Don't forget Gunga!" and she'd answer, "Gungawu! Gungawu!" (Gunga is the plant fiber we collected and weaved into baskets). I thought she was calling out in defiance of death. I understand now she was lamenting something she would miss.

What is happening now isn't life threatening. It is quality of life threatening. Nonetheless, I've been thinking about death, and realizing the hard part about dying is all the things of beauty and joy, particular to your unique life, you will miss, that will end with you. I love to write, I love to make things. I love my home. I love Starfall, and my Starfall family. I love the promise of plans for the future—even simple ones like upcoming farmer's markets and promising to use less plastic. And particularly I love the life I've created with my beloved husband Randin.

I wrote previously that death is another word for the unknown. And yet death is the only certainty. Death will happen, assuredly.

Sigh. I'm morbid today. Sorry. There's something dead inside me.