It feels like that I've at least proven to myself that I can make it three months with stability, which as I think about it, hadn't happened in a long time. The road to the cancer diagnosis began back in March or April and with each step, I grew closer to the diagnosis. I wasn't actually getting sicker, but it felt that way.
I'm running a couple of times a week; taking my iron pills again (interestingly enough, there's a link between distance running and anemia, but whatever, I'll take my iron pills); and I gave up caffeine.
The other day, Noah had a minor cold; Stacy was recovering from some kind of bug that had been knocking her around for two weeks and Matthew was nursing his broken arm. Noah said, as only he can, "Dad, you're the only healthy one in the family."