Gratitude is a powerful thing

I have now completed 2 rounds of chemo.  The new Mayo recommended drug, Kisqali, is going well.  Side effects are manageable and consist mostly of fatigue and some evening digestive mayhem.  The chemo dropped my white count and neutrophils so I am cautious not to go anyplace crowded or knowingly be in close contact with anyone that is ill. This round I decided to make our kids and parents the inner circle.  So far that is working.  Hopefully my next blog entry isn’t from a bed at Sanford. 

The larger battle with a diagnosis such as this, at least for me, has been getting to that point of acceptance.  Acceptance that life has changed in a big way and that those visions of retirement, traveling and growing older with the most supportive, considerate, bad ass humanitarian husband a hippie girl could hope for probably won’t happen. I mean he lets me take in all these special needs pets…and now I am starting with aquariums and fish.  I am pretty sure I could bring a cow home and he would let me keep her.  He even has long rocker hair that looks amazing in a man bun and a suit.   What’s with this timing?  

Once I came to a point where I felt like I was able to accept the diagnosis and all that goes with it, Gratitude started creeping in to my inner monologue.  It started with, I am so grateful my brain MRI was clear.  Brain cancer is my biggest fear in all of this.  Then while reading about a tragic car accident where people were killed, I thought, I am so grateful that I didn’t die suddenly.  I am grateful that I have the gift of time.  I have time to be with those that bring me joy.  I have time to do some of the things I had hoped to do.  We can and will travel again, this is just the beginning and things will get into routine.  I will get used to the return of “Menopause the Lifelong Edition” (1 star would not recommend). Night sweats and hot flashes may be handy in January. 

None of us know how or when our time here is done.  I still don’t know either.  I do know that it could be anywhere from 3-20 years.  The average is 3-5 years, and seriously when is average anything ok?  I am an addict, still turning it up to 11 after 20 years without the booze.  So, I figure I can blow that average out of the water.  Shit I have had more husbands than that.  Disclaimer: that’s a damn lie, albeit a funny one.  

So, bottom line, I am going to keep having adventures with the one we call Papa Sean.  In October, we are going to Bozeman and staying in a yurt in the mountains.  Because YURT??  If you have to ask, you are a terrible hippie. We are also going on a family trip to Disney with Hadley when she is 5, this is non-negotiable to any family reading this.   Norway is on the list and so is being a part of a Flash Mob.  My daughter Meg and I are way overdo for a girl’s trip…..there’s time.

Yesterday I thought, I am damn well not going to sit around and wait to die….I am going to LIVE.  And that is my final answer.  

Thanks for reading.  ❤️