Ordinary Days

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.