Okay. We have a little bit of catching up to do. That is, unless you follow me on Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook. If you follow me there, we’re probably good. If not….
Remember in January how I underwent this uber futuristic cancer treatment that was a totally painless, highly concentrated radiation that 90% of the time stops a tumor from being cancer anymore and leaves just a tiny bit of death in your lung instead? Wellllllll…. It appears I am the bright and shiny 10%. My last scan indicates that the tumor in my left lung is probably sill kicking. We meet with the surgeon later this month – new to me but not to the profession. He’ll advise us on next steps and how soon to take them. We’re assuming surgery. I’ll keep you posted.
Want to know how I’ve been since the news? I have been bratty. Cue the existential crisis in which I wonder if I’m doing enough to have the life I want, because the life I get suddenly feels so very short. I am a first-class, first-world ingrate. I don’t appreciate the day job, because it’s not the dream. I hate the rust-colored carpet in one small room of my house with a passion akin only to the hatred my husband and children must feel for cancer. Theirs being a much more appropriate hatred, I might add.
But now the atta girl, okay? When these bratty thoughts were at their very worst, I crawled out of bed and cleaned the kitchen. When I felt all selfish and weary of doing things I have to do instead of things I want, I started a load of little boy laundry and bought poster board for a homework assignment. And when I could finally close my eyes on that very lowest of the existentially crappy days, I knew I would be better in the morning. I had owned the crisis and uncluttered my soul. In the days following, I wrote out my troubled thoughts and washed them clean. This one is irrational, toss it out. This one has merit, make a plan. This one is an absolute must, don’t ever let it go, but for goodness sake chill about the timing.
That’s where I am right now. Sorting things, facing things, finding a way to let go. It takes time, but I’m getting there.
The best thing that could have happened just before this news is that I joined the challenge: 100 Happy Days. In this very simple premise, you find a happy place every single day. You take a picture of it, and you share it on Twitter or Instagram, etc. And the thing I have noticed is that it’s so easy to do. They are everywhere, the things that make us happy. They are tiny like purple blossoms in the grass, they are made of paper like a card in the mail. They are smiling faces, long drives, the steps of home, cake and ice cream, root beer floats, and stories. A discount at the oil-changing place because I looked like a student, the pretty courtyard at my workplace (pictured!), and the conversation with a coach in which my son was declared to be “wonderful” (and he meant, at being human) didn’t even make the cut, because there were too many others to choose from. It’s impossible not to find a happy thing. We’re filthy rich with them. The thing about this challenge is that it makes me look for them and notice every single one. It’s powerful stuff, this grateful thing. Even bratty me can do it.
Click here for my #100HappyDays (Click the link above to join the challenge yourself.)