i took a train from st. louis to new york many years ago. i was excited because i had splurged and gotten a sleeper, and it was snowing and everything out the window looked so pretty. but in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere in the middle of ohio the train stopped. after several hours, they made us all get off the train and put us on a chartered greyhound bus. they put us on the bus and then pretended the bus was a train, going through the grey and sodden snow to stop at every little train stop between mid ohio and new york. it took three days.
i have read several times that "breast cancer is a journey."
well, if so, mine is not a sidhartha-like journey into the meaning of life; nor is it a vince armstrong conquering obstacles to triumph in the end journey; nor is it even a wake up in the morning with a more positive attitude journey. mine is like that stupid boring endless bus trip, with my endless, tiresome thoughts rolling and bumping along in the night.