Box of sunshine

Wednesday night I had my first true emotional break down.

You're not going to believe why. 

I have a plan of care. I have shrinking tumors. I have health in my future. 

And then my son got the flu.

Tuesday I got a phone call from school that August had a headache. I got my into my car, went to pick him up. He was laying on the couch at school, fast asleep, his face smashed up against the cinder block wall. Cinder blocked imprinted face and all, I pulled him to me, picked him up, and carried him out to the car.

Got him in the car, and he proceeded to projectile vomit all over himself and the car.

Got home, ran and grabbed Bobby, from work, he trooped up, we literally shoveled August and the puke out of the car.

With me in front and Bobby carrying August in, there is a big, wrapped, yellow box deliver from the post man full of stickers on the porch.

A box of sunshine. And it was literally and figuratively a cloudy day.

We have some miscellaneous things happening too, complicating the process of trying to purchase a home.
Yes, I said purchase a home.

We are nuts.

And then here's when it gets really nuts.

August had a terrible fever and headache all Tuesday and Wednesday, so we were very worried and took him to the doctor. He tested positive for the flu.. he'll be out for a week with it.
I then had the irrational thought that I wouldn't be able to have chemo yesterday. I WAS GOING TO GET SICK. It was going to mess up MY PLAN of treatment. I was going to have to put ANOTHER WEEK of waiting to be done with this. I COULDN'T DO THAT. I couldn't wait ONE MORE WEEK to get on the road to wellness. I couldn't handle it. I felt my body giving away from me, the air was leaving my chest...and all I could do was fall to whatever was sitting behind me and heave cry. Truly ugly cry. I couldn't catch myself.. I couldn't stop feeling this immense, overwhelming pity, and it took me a while to get it all out, and gather myself. With Bobby sitting by my side, wondering what was happening to his wife.

This brings me in line with today. Life brings you events to learn. To make you learn, or keep being an asshole.

My stop being an asshole moment was up.

A husband came into the infusion center while I, was privileged (and I mean that) enough to receive my treatment. He was dressed nice, hair done, and had a voice that made you want to listen to him, this is in defense of the face that I was being nosy. He also had a huge bag of Gigi's cupcakes. I'm going to listen.

I noticed he was giving hugs to every nurse in the Cancer center. They were very kind, and everyone wanted to make sure to give him his hug. He was expressing appreciation for everything they did for his wife. How fast it went. What a special person she was. How everyone was able to just love her so easily. There were no tears from everyone, but I could feel both the grief and gratitude, so strongly that I turned my head and started crying even though I had no place, or no right to be apart of that moment.
And in that instant of their professionalism with him, the man left, alone. That's when I saw it clearly, and it hit me like a brick wall. Complete humanity, and total a display of absolute strength. The nurses were hugging each other and cried......wiped their eyes, washed their hands....and then continued their work, just as that man was going to go continue his life with out his special person, whom everyone loved. I also know the nurses would totally kill me if they knew I posted this about them. 

And I might miss my chemo treatment and have to wait another week, to get back to living.


GUYS.... what the hell. This is when you can let humility and life truly grab you by the teeth, chew you up, spit you out, while aiming you at a wall. That's how I felt, and how dearly I knew I needed perspective.
I think that's what sickness is, a constant reminder of getting your life into fucking perspective. That's where our strength is in pain.
True strength, are the nurses and men and women, husbands, children, family that have to deal, treat, see, emotional tend to, dress, and possibly bury their loved ones that are dealing with illness. And then go on with the day as normal. We just have to get through the day, and say thank you for still being alive...and truly mean it.
So thank you, THANKYOU to everyone taking the time to think of us, taking time to write and say, "HI, Thinking of you", to care for us, to send us these "boxes of sunshine" while we do our thing of keeping things in perspective, because it all directs us to that, that feeling of gratitude, beyond any pain or annoyance that treatment gives us. Thank you to my second mom, making sure my boys are fed, toyed up, weird animals are taken care of, loved enough, bringing me all the drinks and whatever she can think of to make our time easier..it makes me think, OH MY GOD. All these people. I love them all, I need to be better, get better, love them back. As nerdy as that is, that's a big chunk of my wellness.
Thank you for the dinners, the picking our boys up, the gifts from across the country, the candy, the thoughts. My best girlfriend with food, drinks, movies, coming even when I don't know I need her. Sitting with me in quiet and playing on our phones.
Everyone that bothers the nurses (I mean keeps me company) at chemo.
All of you, helping me happily gain this 15 pounds of steroid weight with all your food love. 😂😂 you all know I can't say no to desert. Cheese. Good food.
Prayers. It is that reminder of care, that people love us, reminding us that that is what is important. Breaking down our pride, and letting people love and help us.

Thankfulness for listening to us whine, or cry, or have moments of feeling sorry for ourselves, and BEING there for us in all these moments.

Gratitude reminds us of living, that we are living and breathing, and there is nothing better than loving the people around you, and being there with the people you love, no matter what condition you're in.

 Good grief. I think that's my point. I love you guys. Thank you for caring for us.


Your quirky weird friend,
who needs to learn to write better,
Jo