[FROM SUSAN]
We made it home safely from Philadelphia despite being chased out by a storm named Hercules.  While Peter was being tatooed (just dots) and scanned, I tried to discover where the storm edge would turn from snow to rain and book a hotel room on the showery side.  We raced the storm south through snowy rush-hours in Baltimore and DC (where rush hour never seems to end).

Peter wanted to go the whole way home when he came out of his ordeal.  "We could be home by 10," he said, but I knew we'd be lucky to make Richmond by then, and as it was, we got to Fredricksburg a couple of hours later than even I thought we would.  I had imagined time to swing by a mall and buy cheap bathing suits for the indoor pool that I'd found at a Marriott.  Lesson #1, always pack a bathing suit.  They don't take up much space.

But we barely had the energy to drag our bags out of the car and into the hotel after driving bumper-to-bumper from Baltimore down.  Though Weatherbug announced it to be raining in Fredericksburg, it was snow we saw coming down in huge wet flakes.  Once Peter found an Irish Pub with live music, he was down with Fredricksburg and with the idea of stopping, eating, listening, and finally sleeping. 

I was happy to watch the flakes fall through the amber light of fancy street lamps still-adorned by Christmas regalia, and because I'd found (and paid for) a hotel with a 24 hour gym, I was bound to use it.  Despite a beer at the pub (and cabbage for dinner) I managed to get my Couch-to-5k run in on a treadmill with my mouth closed and breathing through my nose the entire time (Buteyko anti-asthma style).  That was about the only non-sitting time I had in the 50+ hours we were away.

We both slept well and a little too late on Friday.  Peter found a store called "Pickers’ Supply" on Caroline Street (I suspect we'll make it back there on a subsequent trip) and we made it home by 2 with time to return our rental car a day early.  But I almost negated the savings by putting too much gas in before we returned it.

The news from Philly is that, unless we hear differently next week, Peter will return to the city of brotherly love to start Proton Beam Therapy treatment on the 20th of January, completing a 4 week stint on February 14th.  They'd said anywhere from 5 to 7 weeks so 4 sounded just great and we practically ran out of the room before the scheduler could change her mind.

We have yet to calculate the details, but most likely Peter will stay with family (thank goodness for loving family and friends) the first two weeks when he is likely to be feeling fine, and then he and I will stay in a friend's friend's vacant apartment (another big thank-you) for the second two weeks when the radiation will start to take its toll on him.

Lesson #2 is to count your bags.  We got out of Joel and Lori's house with all of our stuff, but in the course of loading the car and handing the key off to the neighbor across the street, one of us left a bag behind...the green shopping bag that had my knitting, my books, my journal, and my running watch.  I didn't miss it until we were on the road hours later and I wanted to knit (while Peter drove of course).

It was garbage pickup day on Beaumont Street in Philadelphia, so right away I realized that all of these things in the left-behind-bag might have been tossed into the back of a big smelly truck.  I knew that it was going to take some real "letting go" to accept that all of these things were gone, especially the journal, which tracked back to before Jessie's wedding and holds numerous lists, including the thank-you-notes I have yet to write.

But I called Tony, the across-the-street neighbor, and he was on his way home and soon called back with the good news that the bag was sitting on the porch, and is now safely inside. You think you're holding it together going through a sickness, and then you do something like lose the bag, or leave your phone in the rental car when you return it (which I did late this afternoon), and the immediate tears let you know that, yes, this a tense and uncertain time.  Thankfully the rental car guy (Wayne) answered my phone when I called it, and we were just a 1/2 mile away.  All is well.

We came home to a delightful evening visit from the 2012-2013 alumni from the Johnson Intern Program, all of them except Kindred (we missed you!) back in town for a reunion.  Watty and Chris Bowes and Susannah Smith came, too, and we had a great time that was such a salve after a brief foray into the medical machine we are about to enter. 

One of the alumna told me how much she prays for us, and I was amazed at her insight when she said, "Sometimes I just feel so happy and joyful and I pray that you and Peter feel this way, too.  And sometimes I pray for the two of you as a couple, because I know that sickness can be difficult, and always I pray for healing."  I get teary again just typing all that wisdom.  Thank you.

We are grateful for the reprieve until the 20th.  We'll be filling our lives with as much fun and joy as we can until then.  More details will follow as we plan the month in Philadelphia.

Meanwhile, gratitude is a healing force when we consider all the support we have in this journey.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.