On the water
In June 2013, on an uncharacteristically warm night, I was lying in bed wearing a tank top. My right arm over my head, I flung my left arm across my chest, and my fingers landed on a lump. It turned out to be a knot of cancerous lymph nodes. I was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer, and my life quickly turned upside down, with a rapidly executed relocation to the Seattle area for treatment. We moved to Bainbridge Island, which in some ways is less of an island than Juneau. You can drive off it, for one thing – a short bridge on the north end takes you to the Olympic Peninsula. Or you can take a 35-minute boat ride to downtown Seattle. The Washington State Ferry offers departures about every 50 minutes from 4:45am until 1am. My treatment started with chemotherapy. A typical chemo day began on the second floor of my cancer institute. After the inevitable wait, I’d be called back and a nurse would access my port. A “portacath” is basically a titanium button with a r