Nothing in Particular

I have a bag of sugar in my kitchen. I'm pretty sure that it's been there for most of 2012. Nobody here eats much sugar. Three people and no one eats enough to empty a 5 pound bag. That's probably a good thing. The vices we have are enough.
I was reading Telling Knots' blog yesterday and it kind of shook my world a bit. Her post "30%" talked about the fact that 30% of breast cancer survivors eventually have recurrances. It saddened me, but it also shocked me. 30%! You line 100 of us up and every third one of us is going to die of this wretched disease! I will never be tempted to put the pink ribbon away again! The thing is that it isn't a level playing field. Those who are diagnosed early have a greater then 90% chance of complete remission. But those like me who were diagnosed in stage 3 or 4 don't fare so well. With the proper search terms, I discovered that I have a less than 50% chance that I won't have cancer again. Very very sobering. Now I'm questioning the wisdom of getting the defibrillator. I don't regret fighting cancer in the first place. I needed to finish raising Mollie. But now that job is done. She can stand on her own. But this is the bottom line. I don't want to die of breast cancer. Sudden cardiac arrest is a much more merciful death. So as morbid as all this is, I go on living. It will be God who decides the time and means of my death. I know that I am loved.
I'm reading Les Miserables, which may explain some of my morbidity. It is a good book, but Victor Hugo is as undisiplined in thought patterns as I am.
Mollie came to lunch today. She invited me to move in with her. I can't see myself living in a college room mate situation. But the offer was to my estonishment. Now all my children have offered to house me. I know that I am loved, but I also know they don't understand aging.
So this is a very mismatched group of thoughts, and depressing at that. Thanks for hanging in there with me.