Cancer takes things away.
I would imagine that doesn't come as a
surprise to you. I've probably even talked about it on these pages
before.
But I've been thinking about it quite a
bit as we prepare to move out of our house of 12 years. Cancer has
taken our ability to live in our home any more. True, age hasn't
helped as we live on a couple of small pensions and Social Security,
but I think we could have continued to manage for a few more years if
cancer hadn't entered the arena whacking everything with its big
fekokta stick.
We just can't manage the upkeep any
longer. I am completely unable to do any of the chores, other than
running the vacuum once in a while and hitting the furniture with the
feather duster.
We have had to pay for services that we
normally would have done ourselves, most notably mowing and snow
removal. Yes, we have a riding lawn mower and we finally purchased a
snow blower a couple of years ago, but I don't even have the strength
to run either of them. Sheri has done her best with both, but since
she broke her leg and ankle at the beginning of last year, the
ability to do those things has decreased dramatically.
So, we love our home. It is on an acre
of land and overlooks a beautiful lake, with 50 feet of lake
frontage. But, so what? We can't manage it any more, so off we go.
We have actually found a pretty ideal
condominium in the nearby city which fits most of our needs. Snow
removal and lawn care, big pluses; it's on one floor which is
becoming increasingly important with Sheri's leg injury and my
constant fatigue.
But it isn't this beautiful home we
have now. And the decision to move has really been made for us. It is
the type of effect that cancer has that you just don't think about
until it is you who have cancer.
“You have cancer.” Done and dusted
doc. Lots of medicine, doctor visits, fatigue, nausea. Right. Got it.
But what about having to give up your home, albeit for one that
better fits your needs? What about the confidence you have that you
have your health, so you don't need anything else? What about your
hair? As it turns out, I've been able to adapt a style that I like,
but again, it wasn't a style I picked, it was a style I adapted to
because one of my chemotherapy treatments caused my hair to fall out.
So, cancer takes.
I've been having a hard time dealing
with that lately, but, as always, the answer to living with it comes
with flipping the coin and considering what cancer has given. Sheri
and I are closer than ever before, which is really saying a lot.
My kids and I feel like this is a fight
we are in together, so, even though we are hundreds of miles apart,
it gives us something to share; something to consider at length.
The amazing support we have gotten from
friends is unbelievable. Virtually every week brings an “It's a
Wonderful Life”-ending sort of moment where people have helped us
overcome what seemed like an insurmountable obstacle with room to
spare.
Moving is only the latest example. We
have already moved a lot of our stuff into a storage area with the
help of friends.
Our daughter Kristie was able to visit
from San Francisco for the first big weekend of moving boxes and big
bits. Her enthusiasm was wonderful and she made sure neither her mom
nor I overdid.
There was a wonderful symmetry to her
being here as we made what is almost surely our last big move as we
settle into the place where we'll spend the rest of our lives.
When I went to Sheri's house to pick
her up to go our our first outing (calling it a date when we were
both 44 years old was not doable), Kristie was home visiting from
college. As she let me in to the house, while wheeling her bike out
for a ride, Kristie (whom I had never met) said, “Be nice to my
mother, she's a nervous wreck!”
And so she was, and so was I, and here
we are almost 24 years later facing another outing with nerves and
excitement galore. So, let's get to it.
There are a variety of versions of
the story that gives this blog its name. The pony is the constant in
all of them. A man is on his way to a party when he comes across a
young boy shoveling ass over tea kettle at an enormous mountain of
manure. The man asks the child if he wouldn't rather go with him to
the party than shovel all that poop. The kid says, “No way man.
With all that poop... there must be a pony in there somewhere