On vacation and I recognized a familiar face walking over to dinner. Had a brief conversation and a selfie. He could not have been more friendly and gracious. What a man. Hope I wasn’t a bother. He certainly seemed to make my dream come true without hesitation. Even took the time to say “nice to meet you, Scott”.And I’ve still got my snorkel mask lines on my face, dammit 😂 ETA: this occurred several days ago, but out of respect for his privacy, I waited to post, and I’m not mentioning when or where it occurred. ❤️ to Dave and all his fans…

When you are dying, at least in my limited experience, you start remembering everything. Images come in flashes—people and places an stray conversations—and refuse to stop. I see my best friend from elementary school as we make a mud pie in her back yard, top it with candles and a tiny American flag, and watch, in panic, as the flag catches fire. I see my college boyfriend, wearing boat shoes a few days after a record-breaking snowstorm, slipping and falling into a slush puddle. I want to break up with him, so I laugh until I can’t breathe.

Maybe my brain is replaying my life now because I have a terminal diagnosis, and all these memories will be lost. Maybe it’s because I don’t have much time to make new ones, and some part of me is sifting through the sands

George, who was then a urology resident at the hospital, began calling friends who were primary-care doctors and ob-gyns. Everyone thought it was something to do with the pregnancy or the delivery. After a few hours, my doctors thought it was leukemia. My parents, Caroline Kennedy and Edwin Schlossberg, had brought my two-year-old son to the hospital to meet his sister, but suddenly I was being moved to another floor. My daughter was carried off to the nursery. My son didn’t want to leave; he wanted to drive my hospital bed like a bus. I said goodbye to him and my parents and was wheeled away