Knowing where I'm coming from

I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. Lately I can’t seem to get enough sleep. I didn’t need to get up with an alarm — I’m off today for chemo (least fun reason to have a day off ever. I’d prefer jury duty), but I wanted to drive Lillian to school. My dad is here and either he or Justin could have — and volunteered to — drive her to school, but I love this time with her.

I’m living for the sweet little moments with my family right now, but especially those with my kids who grow older, more mature by the minute.

So, Lil and I piled into the car and set off for school. And immediately encountered an unexpected road closure on the main road.

Traffic was a mess and after a few failed workarounds ending at more and more closures (spoiler: it was a gas leak), I turned back toward home and headed in the opposite direction of the school to circle wide and take a route five times longer. OK maybe not five times, but, as mentioned, I’m tired and I’m not going to calculate that. Instead of a roughly ten-minute trip, Lil and I were in the car for 45 minutes. And so late.

And I hate being late.

After I checked Lillian in at the front desk I asked her if I could walk her to her classroom, to which she immediately responded with a gleeful “Yes!” It filled my heart.

I know we’re not too far off from the days when she runs off to be with her friends without even a “Bye, Mom.” I know that because it’s already happened.

As we walked, she held my hand and pointed out recent changes to the campus. She noted the yummy smells were coming from the kitchen where the new chef is “really excellent.” I told her I loved getting to walk with her and she turned her face up to mine and with strong, sincere eye contact she said, “me too, Mommy,” and squeezed my hand three times.

When we got to her classroom she embraced me with a warm, long hug. She turned as she opened the door and blew me a kiss.

Moments like this are everything.

It is hard to not lament all that has been stolen from me throughout this journey. The cancelled trips, the missed work events, an empty summer calendar which would typically be filled with concerts, declined social invitations, no eating out, no crowds, favorite foods now cause heart burn and reflux and often taste like ash or nothing at all, my hair …

I sometimes feel I am just getting by, just passing the time, not really living and certainly not making the most of every day.

But I am living for the little moments I can have. The rides to school. The family walks. Sitting outside watching the kids let their imaginations run wild. Family hugs that break out unplanned and often. Rare quiet moments Justin and I share together. Dancing in the living room.

Dancing might be my favorite.

We love music in this house. It is not at all unusual for a dance party to break out during even the most mundane of tasks. Brushing your teeth is infinitely more fun — although a bit more messy — while playing air guitar or using your toothbrush as a microphone.

We didn’t have a dance party today; I was a bit too tired after chemo. But I was able to make one of my favorite go-to meals: chicken enchiladas. They were a big hit — Alex asked if I could make them again tomorrow! — and I felt good being able to contribute in a way I’m not often able to. We did celebrate another infusion day down by crossing number eight off the fridge countdown — only eight more to go!

In just two months I’ll close this chapter and move on to the next — recovering from chemo before surgery. It’ll take my immune system about a month to recover and then I’ll be able to slowly work my way back out into the word — just in time for surgery. But! My hair will begin growing back, my energy levels should slowly increase, I can go out to a restaurant and sit at a table INSIDE and raise a glass to celebrate fingers crossed completely clean scans, I can eat sushi and get back to running. I can get back to being me.

But I won’t be the same me I was on January 1. I still feel weird telling people I have cancer. It feels like a lie, as though this can’t be real? It’s so hard to wrap my brain around this still. Perhaps that’s why I focus on what I know, the hard facts. My infusion schedule and routine, meeting with my care team about next steps, the process, options. Focusing on work. Spending time with my family and finding things we can safely do together while limiting my risk of contracting an illness.

An unexpected benefit of cancer has been sharing my story and reconnecting with so many wonderful people I’ve lost touch with over the years. Every time you show up in my messages, comments and texts it brings a smile to my face and warmth to my chest. Additionally, I have met so many wonderful people because of my diagnosis. My care team is absolutely incredible and compassionate and just delightful to be around. Every nurse I’ve had the privilege of receiving care from has been nothing short of wonderful. And my fellow patients have shared tips for managing treatments, words of inspiration and bright smiles. I really dread going to chemo, but these faces lift me up.

One person on my care team shared with Justin and I that she was heading to Wilmington with her husband for a few days. Wilmington is special to Justin and me as it was one of the last weekends we spent together back in 2014 before he deployed to Jordan. We shared some of our favorite spots and a romantic memory of getting caught in the rain on the river walk. I also had to add the One Tree Hill sights we saw which took us down the rabbit hole of OTH fandom!

She came in to see me today, back from her trip, and shared her own fresh memories. She also shared a gift for me — OTH swag. This person I barely know, who could come in, go over my file, check the boxes and leave, saw me as more than a cancer patient and thought me of while she was vacationing with her husband. I’m verklempt.

Talk amongst yourselves.