I’ve had a much deeper need to be alone these days. It’s not that I’m weepy all the time or in terrible depression …it’s just that it can be exhausting to talk about cancer, but it’s also tiring to pretend it’s not happening. It’s easier to be alone where I can process when I want and how I want. It’s easier to do things at my pace and at my timing. It’s easier to put a smile on my face when I actually feel like putting one on my face rather than a fake one that makes everyone else around me feel better.
We put up lights and a tree this weekend. The lights were Jonathan’s idea, and they cheered me in a way I didn’t know I needed. His second bone marrow biopsy left him aching and tired through Friday night. That next morning I had a cookie exchange to attend, and later that night we were expected at his office holiday party. It felt like Christmas was already in full swing for everyone else but us. I wanted decorations up but thought it might not happen anytime soon. So, when Jonathan told me that he’d recruited Brent to help hang lights, I LIT UP. (Pardon the pun.)
By late Saturday afternoon, our house had been transformed into a little gingerbread cottage with white icicle lights. I was so happy he felt good enough to be up on a ladder making our house look pretty. And, I felt so loved that he did it because he knew it would make me happy.
Jonathan and I got dressed up and headed off to the Granite Bay Country Club for dinner while Brent and Erica babysat Anna. They are just two of many loving friends who have offered to watch her during this season of our life. As always I gave her a little pep talk before we left which basically goes like this: “Show these people your best stuff, ok?” And, she did.
Anna is bringing us more and more joy as each week passes, so I’m not surprised she behaved. She’s in the golden days of her infancy. This is the stage where babies smile a LOT, find fascination in their feet, babble and blow raspberries, and they don’t move. I have a hard time believing it can get much better than this, and yet, everyone says it does.
I want to stop time. I want to stop her growth. I want to take a picture every morning so that I don’t forget her rosy cheeks and big smile when I come rescue her from her crib. And yet, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I also want to fast forward time…to skip ahead to the part where Jonathan is done with treatment and life resumes to normal.
But, I suppose we’re learning that there is no normal in this wild and crazy life. We get the good with the bad, the joy with the sadness.
And that’s how I’m doing today.
p.s. No news yet on the biopsy results. We should know more any day now. I’m posting the latest at caringbridge.org/visit/millertime. I actually feel a deep peace about the staging process but it’s easier for me because I’m not the patient. I think Jonathan and I are both very anxious for him to start treatment asap, and that should hopefully begin within the next week or two.