December

I think I'm going to have to resign myself to a running undercurrent of fear and panic this time of year.

I found my cancer in December.
Kate found her cancer in December.
Libby found her cancer in late November.
Maria's final illness took hold last December.

So part of me waits, with some dread, for more scary news to come this month. I look at the calendar, and fear either my share of blank calendar squares are coming to their end, or some calamity is about to fall on someone else I love.

The fear is further grounded in the thought I'm not using what days I have as well as I could. I look at the places I am spending my time, and a part of me screams, "I'm not doing it right!"

The more rational part of me knows that I'm doing what I can and need to do. Chances are I'm going to live for a good long while, and I can't throw all the cards in the air and still plan for a stable retirement. So, I'm going to work, taking care of my house, exercising some, planning for the holidays, getting enough sleep.  Heck, for the past month and a bit - excepting Thanksgiving, of course - I've even been eating right.

My inner two year-old is NOT consoled. She wants out, she wants free. She doesn't want to work any more, she's tired and cranky and just wants to do whatever it is she wants to do.

I get it. I'm with her. Soon, I tell her, soon.

Until then, I will keep reminding myself that past results are not an indicator of future returns. Into every life, bad things fall - but so do good. This past Thanksgiving celebration is proof of good. Lots of love and food and hugs and more food and happiness. There were zero arguments and no new bad news surfaced. No one got angry, no one got sick, no one hurt themselves. Everyone made it home safely.

Breathing is good.
Life, is good.
and, reserving the right to throw all my cards in the air should bad news strike again is good, too.