By

Down the Rabbit Hole Once Again ...

Dear Family & Friends,

I have some good news: I'm taking up meditation. Unfortunately, I also have some bad news: I was diagnosed with AML acute leukemia this past  weekend. Again, good news: It's totally curable. Bad news: The next four to six weeks are going to suck big time, and then after that I'm going to have a year or two of pretty heavy duty healing, which of course will involve some pretty sucky moments, along with some really good moments, I think too.

I know this comes as a shock, and I'm really sorry. I'm going to be okay. I'm at Brigham & Women's Hospital in Boston, one of the top oncology centers in the world. My doctors are all brilliant and have been explaining things very clearly to me. I have applied for and have been told that I will receive Massachusetts Health Care, which means my medical bills (and I'm racking them up by the minute) will be paid for.

The back story is this: I got an infection that wouldn't go away. I went to the hospital late morning Saturday to have it checked out. They took blood, which revealed severe anemia and other abnormalities. I stayed at the community hospital in Cape Cod until the next evening when they then transferred me here for more sophisticated care.

It's been a ridiculous whirlwind so far. On the same weekend two years ago my life changed just as drastically, so I guess in some ways Hurricane Katrina prepared me for this. There's a lot of information to take in, along with this sudden new life ... but I'm just going with it. I'm not looking back because that won't do me any good, but I will let you all know that I have had an amazing summer—I love Cape Cod, I love the radio station and coffee shop where I work. I've made some really good friends and thank God because they've been so supportive through this craziness. I've walked on the beach, I've relaxed, I've gone sailing ... When all this stuff is over, I'm pretty sure I'm going to plant my roots here, always checking in with New Orleans and New Jersey, of course.

So that's my story for right now. What do I need from you? Love love
love love love and more love. Ya'll know I love to be loved, so send
it to me in huge dosages whenever and however you can. You can call
or write to me and hopefully some of you can come visit, but just know
when you do, I won't look the same, at least for a little while, and I,
temporarily, might be less sprightly than usual.

If I don't answer your calls, or I don't get back to you right away, please don't take it personally. I'm going to find myself a spokesperson among you to e-mail this list with updates when I'm not feeling up to it. Many of you won't actually know the spokesperson, but I'm sure if you did, you would like her a lot.

I'm being well taken care of by doctors and nurses of course, and by family and friends who are keeping me so busy by visiting and calling that I hardly have time to remember this cancer thing. Every once and a while I remember and that sucks, but I'm kind-of psyched to use this as an opportunity to learn to meditate—I always thought if I went to prison I'd use it as an opportunity to watch my breath, and this is about as close to prison as I ever want to get. (So far, when I've been in patient waiting areas, I've had the inclination to turn to the guy sitting next to me to ask, "what are you in for?" But I haven't yet, because I'm not sure ill people are supposed to be so funny.) Anyway, my friend is helping me find a meditation coach to come visit me in the hospital. I think I'm doing okay spiritually.

Don't send flowers, because they're not allowed on the floor. Do send post-cards, letters, art and stories from the outside world. I love stones, music, good food ... (if you are a visitor, please feel free to bring food. Hospital food sucks, and I can eat everything but raw fish and meat. I'm looking not for comfort food but for good, healthy, organic nutritious stuff. Carrots over cookies please, unless they're homemade).

I guess that's it for now.

May my blood be healed. May you all be well.

I love you,
Ibby