It was completely by accident I noticed. A reader was going back through my posts as my site meter indicated and as they clicked, so did I. Page by page we skimmed back through my blog, piecing together the days and weeks of the past couple of years.
It was almost like the Facebook movies that are popping up all over our feeds- but a blogger movie instead. Realizing its been almost a year exactly since I had stable cancer, and that I've been in almost perpetual treatment of some kind, really hit home. The weeks and months I've spent squirreled away in the back bedroom, too fatigued to move. The months of first Xeloda, then Tykerb and how they reordered the days of our life.
It struck me, that while I am still recovering from surgery, the bonus is that I haven't started treatment outside of Herceptin right now. My system is about as clear as it could be considering all its been through.
So what might I be able to resume?
Rick was traveling for the day for the first time in months it felt like. He was out of the house by 7 and Crosby and I were on our own.
And here is where I'd love to wow you with how clever and cunning I was… but that isn't remotely what I found myself drawn to.
I decided to make dinner- from scratch. Stroganoff with pasta, glazed carrots, and brownies for dessert. But first I had pans to clean and arrange. And ingredients to scrounge for. And as I moved through the kitchen, my eyes were wide open for the first time, to all that has gone undone. Left behind. Abandoned and hurriedly skimmed over with hazy eyes.
Clearly, I've been in survival mode.
So I cooked- slowly-but steadily planning everything out. I cleaned, sorted, organized. Still making sure I didn't lift too much, or stoop too much, or overly tax myself.
Somehow, I managed a full day out of bed.
It was late afternoon when Crosby started barking at something by the front door. I saw nothing but snow for the longest time and then my eyes noticed movement. I snuck up to the window with my cell phone and eked out one fuzzy image. But I got it.
...a very fat and round Robin. It sat there huddled against the ground for the longest time and then finally staggered up off its big "fat tire" of a belly, and managed a quick flight across the street where I lost sight of it.
It was a frigid day in early February- temps well below zero. How had this bird stayed alive? Against the odds, somehow, that bird was surviving what seemed to be insurmountable odds.
What did a "worm-eating" bird find to eat instead? What about a fresh water source? Most water around here would be frozen.
I could only marvel and wonder.
And smile- it was officially my first sign of spring- and a huge boost of hope to boot.
Dinner was ready shortly after Nolan got home on the 430 pm bus.
I could barely hold my head up I was so bone tired afterwards. But it was the best kind of tired to be.
I crawled into bed early while the boys were at church. I treated myself to one more brownie, then slept soundly long into the night.