The summer of 2010, before Josh and I left on our big
adventure, I regularly sat either on our front step looking out to Minnesota
Square Park, or on our back deck looking into the back yard, sipping a cup of
morning coffee and drinking in the details of my ordinary life. I wanted to imprint those details so I
could remember them when I needed to steel myself to face yet another morning
in an unfamiliar location. While
we had some challenging days as we greeted the morning through out Europe,
Israel and China, relatively speaking the wonderful days far, far outnumbered
the tough ones.
It is my experience, that traveling to foreign countries is
far easier than traversing this territory called cancer. I may sleep in my own bed at night, but
there is nothing that feels ordinary.
Right now I am in what I refer to as the sludge. My gastrointestinal tract is in
complete revolt so I have no idea when I will even be able to consider drinking
a cup of coffee.
Doodling around on the internet I came across a blog written
by David J. Hahn, called The Chronicles
of a Cancer Patient (CCP).
Hahn was diagnosed
with Stage IIIB Hodgkins Lymphoma, and endured six months of chemotherapy
between 2005 –2006. I really
connected with the post where he wrote, “And I suppose I should feel good that
I only have 2 more treatments. That’s what people keep saying, at least, “Hey –
only 2 more, right? That’s gotta feel good.” It doesn’t. And
people hate that answer. If I’ve
learned anything from the progressive side-effects of chemotherapy treatments,
it’s that the last treatments will be the worst. I don’t look forward to them, and knowing that they are
coming doesn’t make me feel any better, even if completing them means it’s all
over.”
Hahn emerged on the other side of all this. He achieved his dream and worked as a pianist
and conductor on Broadway. Currently
he lives in San Francisco and writes music for film, television and theatre.
As I have said time and time before, I sincerely believe I will
emerge on the other side of this. And,
I don’t think my traveling days are over.
But right now those imprinted memories from 2010 are fueling my
dreams. Sometime this fall if you
happen to drive down College Avenue early in the morning and see me sitting on
the front steps drinking my coffee. . . just know that I am living the
dream.