יסתרני בסתר אהלו . . . בצור ירממני
He will conceal me in the hidden places of His tent . . . She will lift me upon a rock.

Asserting the firm belief that, a) just because I have breast cancer does not mean I should feel as though I am living in a soap opera, and b) (of course) the only thing we have to fear is fear itself, I am doing the only logical thing: spending some time in my tent . . . on the roof of my house.

What am I doing up here? Well . . . davening, for one thing. This roof is the place where I discovered my daily(ish) prayer practice about 10 months ago. In the beginning, I sat on an old foam boogie board and wore a blanket wrapped around my tallit when necessary. When it got cold . . . and I realized I had cancer . . . I knew I needed a place, a makom, some shelter that would enable me to continue to come out here. I had this old, old tent (it is getting older by the minute, being battered by the winter winds), so I set it up on the roof and anchored it with sandbags.

"The intuitive mind is a sacred gift, the rational mind is a faithful servant" (Albert Einstein). I'm trying not to lose these or any other part of my mind, although some days this seems to be an uphill battle. I'm taking the "kitchen sink" approach--all of the usual coping strategies, plus the tent, plus this blog. I'm not promising that I'll post often, or even ever again ;-)