I had an excellent walk with Hal and Charlie this morning at the Laguna Niguel Regional park.  We walked for an hour, sighting multiple California White Pelicans, some cormorants, a grackle or three, lots of mating pairs of ducks, some Canadian geese (and others with a nobbly nose whose name escapes me).

To my great delight, I also saw some early lupine in bloom along the trailside of the lake.  I will have to walk there next week, chemo or no chemo, to see them bloom.  And the week after should be just perfect timing for the full glory of their once a year appearance.

About the time we hit the lupine patch, Hal said that one thing he promised never to do to me was give me the "cancer face."  And I knew exactly what he meant...think I even grabbed his arm for emphasis.  It's something that everyone who's ever received a cancer diagnosis has seen on the face of someone (loved ones, strangers, doctors, nurses...or in yesterday's case for me, dental hygienists).

I described it to Hal as the "Oh, the poor dear is dying of cancer" look.  For those who haven't been on the receiving end of such a look, it's a rueful mixture of pity, awkwardness, a "thank God it's not me" sort of lurking guilt/glee, and the look your great aunt Nelda gave you when you spilled your milk all over the table at her fancy Thanksgiving dinner.

Bad enough having your teeth cleaned but when you get the cancer face to boot, it's downright not fun.

I'd much prefer people give me the lupine face.  It's the face that sees me as I am in the photo below.  Alive.  Connected.  Enjoying the beauties of nature and the love of friends, family and the world's best husband.  And pretty damn healthy for a woman fighting cancer.

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