I took a break from treatment last week. I took a break because, before I knew I had this recurrence, I had booked a mini-vacation for me and my son to visit a friend in Orlando, Florida. I didn’t want to be sick at all during our visit, and my oncologist agreed to the break.

It was wonderful. Too short, as these mini-vacations tend to be, but wonderful. It was great to get away from the snow, the dreariness of where I live, work, and yes, treatment. It was nice to have a week off of treatment.

I can’t even say that I did much, but I enjoyed myself so very much. I relaxed and read while Energy Boy played with my friend’s three sons and had a ball. We did go to DisneyQuest, his favorite place there, but he didn’t even ask to go to a Disney park.

I love going down there. I have a wonderful friend who lets me talk about anything and everything, including those nasty fears that anyone with a Stage IV cancer surely has. I tend to not talk about those fears because they make people very uncomfortable, so it’s nice to be able to voice them and feel safe doing so.

And, well, I love Orlando. I love Florida. I dream of someday retiring there and starting a second career, whether it’s taking tickets at some Disney park or doing something a bit more brainy than that. Whether that will happen or not, I don’t know . . . but it doesn’t hurt to dream.

Sometimes I worry that taking a break will set me back as far as treatment, with trying to shrink the *&^!! cancer that’s in my body, but my oncologist assures me that it won’t. So I choose to believe her, and wish and hope and pray that the cancer is shrinking.

I’ll be back at it this Friday. Another treatment day. Week One of my four-week cycle. I hate it. I hate having cancer. I hate having it for a second time. I hate that anybody has to deal with this awful disease.

But for a few short days, even if I can’t get away from it completely, I got away from part of it, and enjoyed life more than I have in awhile.

It was worth it, and then some.