So this morning, as with many other mornings, noons and nights, I had the insight/urge/nudge to text my girlfriend and, among other things, say, WE NEED TO SCHEDULE A PLAY DATE!
This is the second woman I met, about 7 years ago, when I uprooted my entire comfortable what I thought to be happily ever after life in a cushy cul de sac in NC to embrace my husband’s happiness (aka career) in IN.
Charlotte and I instantly bonded on the scratchy grass of the tiny green island of our historic (read: OLD) neighborhood. Her two and a half year old triplets were decked out in enviable God Bless America Ensembles. All were recently potty trained. So I was in awe and a little intimidated at the same time. And, a super important caveat here–both our husbands, we discovered in short order, (some might call it bitching) worked every. day. all. the. time. including. holidays. Holy Or Not.
So Charlotte and I have this thing about ice cream trucks too YET I DIGRESS…….(tune in later for THAT story) and ho hum this morning she texted back, to my play date inquiry,
” yeah blah blah great and oh, btw, diagnosed with breast cancer…upcoming surgery…tumor the size of a lemon….”
TUMOR THE SIZE OF A LEMON.
I’m worried. I’m angry. I’m frustrated. I don’t have time yet, for sad, so I think.
I am in full on Caregiver/Make Plans/Prepare Mode. I want to cry. I want to drive to her house and clean a bathroom. But I’m covering the gray in my hair and have 40 minutes on my timer. Did I mention I want to cry?
I want to buy wife beater t-shirts for her post surgery recovery. I want to start freezing meals. I want to know her trash can curb schedule. I want to create an entire summer camp for The Trips (what we call them. They are now 8 years old. Oh and also? They just said goodbye to their grandpa who died from cancer. )
I want to cry. I want to put away a basket of clean laundry because that is something I can control. And so I do. But all the while, I am texting back and forth with Charlotte. With my cover the gray timer ticking away on my phone. With my dogs clearly feeling my mood and cowering into the recesses of the fluffy couch.
I am at the same time by habit, charged to take control and help, yet hesitant to offend, yet practical enough to start a list of Must-Do’s– Food! Kids! Laundry! School shopping! Lawn mowing! Recycling to the curb! Tooth Brushing! Dog poop scooping!
Every. Day. Life–which, post surgery? Doesn’t get done. Let’s not even think about Getting Every Day Life Done During Chemo or Radiation. Oh World, you have no idea.
You’ve heard me say this before: It’s Not Pretty. It’s Not PINK. Pink is not pretty. Pink does not Cure.
Here we go….again.Back to Real Life.
I love you, Charlotte. I love your family. I’m here for you.
P.S. Just exactly what is your trash/recycling can schedule?