The Break from Not-Normal

April 11, 2011: For the past few days, I've been on "Spring Break". I packed my scarves, but they never came out of the suitcase. I wore my pink ribbon bracelet and "Forward" cancer ring, but tucked them away after the first day. I just wanted to be a normal daughter, sister, wife, mom, and Grammy and not have to think about cancer at all. I am reassured that my hair has grown long enough that it covers the worst of the wound, so unless someone was standing hip-to-hip and staring at the tracks down my neck, they wouldn't see or know. It's a relief at this point - and could even border on denial. But if I can forget this thing that looms over me and is never too far away, I'll take every second of memory loss. I helped my daughter with her babies. I played games with Lachlan. I went shopping. I drove the car, just for the scenery change. I snuggled a sleeping newborn. I watched a movie. I ate custard with oreo bits and cashews. I ordered Chinese. I put a curling iron in my hair and wore perfume. Normal things that have come to feel not-normal in my new life of doctor visits and sometimes scary thoughts.

This morning, my little grandson called (I think he has me on speed dial) and said, "Grammy, did you look at your calendar to see when you can come back down here to my house?" I looked and saw the doctor appointments scheduled for Tuesday and Thursday of this week - and the looming blank spaces where more appointments will probably be "penciled in" before too long. I wished I could erase it all and write his name over the whole month. "Hopefully, it will be soon," I said. But, for both of us, it won't be soon enough.

So, this is another thing I've learned so far. Don't take anything for granted - not even the quick shower and out the door in fifteen minutes - not even sleeping on BOTH sides of your head - not even being able to be-bop to music without feeling a zing in your neck - not even sitting at a computer without the ache of a muscle that's doing double duty for something that was cut out - not even thinking "miracles and hope" without it meaning the difference between life and death. Couldn't it just mean the hope of spring after a freezing rain? Couldn't it just mean the hope that a beautiful baby brings to a family? Does it have to mean staying alive to see my grandchildren have babies? I'll always be grateful for normal. Normal will never be boring or unnoticed again.