I had to be reminded this weekend that I am not the same as before. It’s good that every waking moment, every visitor, every thought is no longer about cancer, or recovery, but sometimes just about life.As a result I’m so tired tonight I can’t really make this blog make sense.
In fact I am more tired than I have been in a while – real, honest tired. Not fatigue. I worked on the weekend. I was a helper, a participant, a driver (literally) and then I was up until 2am last night for the right and wrong reason.
We are headed on a Disney cruise for Thanksgiving and today marks the 75-days-until-cruise mark. Well, with all of our family traveling we wanted to be SURE we got the right Port Adventures, the EARLIEST embarkation time. And, we weren’t clear on the demand – this is the first fall that Disney operates out of Galveston and with 2400 of our nearest and dearest friends also onboard, we wanted to get a jump. SO comes our story of Davis and I with all associated reservation numbers and birthdays, logging on at midnight, hitting refresh – panicking when we couldn’t get into the open website. It was the adrenaline rush of an ebay auction couple with the excitement of class registration and Christmas morning all rolled into one. We couldn’t get everything settled and my brain rattled around for another hour, luckily I have the super hubby to pick up the slack and let me sleep it off a bit.
Sleeping on my stomach. Yup, that’s right, though I am stiff and a little tight in places, I am back to my belly flop. In my bed. Tonight I am already fighting the droopy eyes. Who needs physical therapy when you have kids? And, real life.
In some ways I won’t ever be the same because of this journey – the battle hardening my attitude, loosening my parental concerns, allowing my strength to surface. In some ways I want to be the same – menu planning today for a week, shopping at Target, sweeping the garage in 100 degree heat.
This week, we are going to test the Ward fall scheduling system. Also known as the chaos that is back to school, and the organization that is a dual-MBA house. We have multiple written calendars to determine what we can add into the system – will Cub Scouts tip us over the edge? Will robot camp? Dance?
There was a time in my life when the mere removal of a mole caused a scar whose keloid was objectionable enough to have us revisit it – twice. I even have stories for it: barbed wire fence, shark attack. I was reminded when I received a get well card – some stories to tell about your scar – that my positioning on scars is a little different. After all, I now have two big ones. But I don’t really see them the same way – they are a means to an end. Although this ending is pretty good.