05/02/2026
For the last three years, I’ve spent a great deal of time going back and forth between our Vermont home and cancer institute in Boston. My promise to myself was that no matter how hard things got, I’d make these trips as delightful as I was able. At first, that meant visiting exceptional restaurants. When I lost my sense of taste during radiation treatment, I shifted to museum visits and Red Sox games—although my baldness, steroid-swollen face, and burns earned me plenty of odd looks from other patrons. And, when I realized that the world’s best figure skaters frequently make stops in Boston, I began attending their shows, which has been wild and joyful. Last weekend, I was in the city for scans and scary appointments, but I got to see performances from some of my favorite skaters, ate at Rosa y Marigold and Willie’s, and walked from one end of Beacon Street to another, camera in hand. My scans looked ok, so I’ll spend the next three months at home, tending my little farm, hunting for mushrooms in the woods, and making up recipes. And somewhere in there, I’ll start planning my next trip.
