Fan your flow

 

Life makes plans, god laughs. 

God you ironic bastard.

My medical team decided to add one more week of chemotherapy to my existing regiment due to a minor set back aka my horror film sized stye. This means my last day of chemo will be 12/11. The same day as the first day of Hanukkah. For the Festival of Lights I was going to ask for a helicopter wrapped in mink carrying 55 lbs of Godiva, and peace on earth of course, but I’ll settle for my final day of toxic chemicals coursing through my bloodstream.

Since my last day for treatment has been moved, so has my mastectomy date. My new surgery date is 1/13. Mixed feelings on that one. On one hand I’m wildly disappointed. I told my friends, marked it in my day planner and even circled the date on our chalkboard refrigerator calendar. On the other, more responsible hand, I’m relieved that I won’t be ushered in to have major surgery on the same week as Christmas. 

Ho hum.

If I’ve learned nothing it’s I know nothing. Kiddingggggg. I know a little. And mostly it consists of the reality that we should all be like water. Flowing, tranquil at times, tumultuous at others. Be like water. Go with the flow. Don’t wish your life away. Enjoy it all. Even the reschedules. 

Walking the line of feeling grateful, obsessively trying to appreciate every moment given, maintaining a level of sincere hatred towards big business and greed while facing my own mortality seems to be exactly what the Christmas spirit is all about. 

My “hair” is growing in and as if feeling the need to rival the awkwardness of my seventh grade soft touched laser backgrounded school picture, is portraying itself in a fuzzy chick bum that is neither cute nor couture. 

Don’t wish your life away.

Lilah trying to hold in her laughter after the dog farts because she’s “mad.” Tommy giving the “finger gun” in every picture. My mom saying “for crying out loud” every time she makes the slightest marginal mistake. My dad playing bass to an imaginary musical arrangement while “listening” to my diatribe of why there should be more trades taught in the public schools. Steve finally committing to growing a beard after being told he didn’t look a day over 19. 

These are a few of my favorite things. 

Have they always been there? Why did it take me getting cancer to stop and see them? Does it matter? No it doesn’t. I see them now and I’m never letting go.