Imagine

Treatment #3 is underway and (so far) going smoothly. No crazy blood-thirsty nurses; no Benadryl overdoses (it's juuust right!); no impulsive "I love you man's" directed at my wonderful caregivers. Just a routine day in the medical oncology treatment room. Ho-hum!

Warren and Bruce just left, they came up to have lunch with me and shoot the breeze a little bit. It does get boring being here for 6 hours, despite the fact that I bring enough stuff with me they think I'm moving in for a week (laptop, work, book, magazines, iPod, blanket, pillow, cell phones, lunch bag, etc.).

I sit here, halfway listening in to the conversations in adjoining cubbies (we are only separated by a curtain). My neigbor and a member of the housekeeping staff started the day with an animated conversation about the election of Barack Obama and the upcoming inauguration. The woman sounds elderly, and she seemed honored to have been able to witness an historical moment (and also pleased as punch that one of her family members will be attending the inauguration). Another conversation involved a nurse explaining the "do's and don'ts" of chemo to a new patient and his wife. As she cautioned against sexual relations in the first 48 hours after treatment, the wife piped up that they didn't need to worry about THAT - her husband wasn't even capable of lifting a spoon, much less lifting...well, you get the picture. The nurse gamely listened, insisted she didn't need to know the details, and tried to move on but the wife was insistent on sharing so that the nurse could be reassured that no sex wasn't going to be a problem. I can only imagine what my neighbors think about my own conversations (especially my Benadryl moments)!

Christmas was bittersweet. I loved watching the kids open their gifts, but I was still fighting the effects of a cold and had not quite the energy I would have liked (in fact, we missed Christmas Eve mass because of my fatigue). I loved having my whole family there, but got a little nauseated from the smell of cigarette smoke (my sister and brother-in-law smoke quite a bit, and although they don't smoke in my house, their clothes and gifts fairly reek of it). And I loved spending the day after Christmas with my in-laws (my brother-in-law Glenn hugged me so tightly on my arrival, not wanting to let go, wanting to make sure I knew how he was feeling without having to say so), but spent a good part of the drive home feeling sad about the prospect of these family get-togethers taking place without me.

It's interesting how hard it is to imagine a world without me in it. I think of family and friends who have died (Vinnie and my mother in particular) and although I miss them terribly and think of them almost daily, I see that the world has gone on. I see that while grief and sadness are inevitable after a loved one dies, so is joy and happiness. It's not just about leaving Taryn and Warren and Emily and Ian and all the changes that implies. What happens on Christmas when I'm gone? Does Bruce come over the house still, or does he spend it at home or in the bar? Does Glenn silently wonder what it would have been like if I were there? What happens during the year? Are vacation plans made? Do birthday parties happen? Are bills paid? On time? There are many things I can imagine, but me not being in the world is not one of them. I know that sounds narcissistic, but I suspect it is a rather universal feeling among those of us facing uncertainty in the future (which, when you get right down to it, is all of us).

So I try to reflect upon the things I have been lucky enough to enjoy these past 14 or so years since cancer took up permanent residence in my life. At various moments I didn't think I'd live long enough for Taryn to remember me (she was only 3 at the time of my first diagnosis), or long enough to meet and marry my best friend, or long enough to see Taryn's 13th birthday, or long enough to see Emily and Ian happy, or long enough to see all three of them graduate high school and go to college. And I continue to try to imagine the world WITH me in - my upcoming 50th birthday (GALAGANZA!); the kids graduating college, getting married, having children; retirement to North Carolina; new shoes on a regular basis. Magical thinking maybe (well, except for the shoes, that WILL happen) - but what is a world without magic anyhow?

Blessings and Love to All.