Lump pt. 2 – The Calm Before

 

Next week is unknown.

Next week could bring good news or bad.

Next week everything could go to shit.

Next week everything could be all right.

And there is nothing whatsoever that we can do about it today.

In a few days things will start happening fast – there will be consults and tests and evaluations.  Her genetic scan will come back, and may change everything or nothing.  Her medication regimen will change in the run up to surgery.  There will be special antiseptic cleansing and no food after a certain point and the (almost) final time for the surgery will be set.  Then comes the big day and we will go to the hospital at the appointed time and she will be whisked away from me and off to surgery and I will spend a couple of hours staring at the clock and fiddling with my phone and wishing I hadn’t finished the good book I was reading (though if I hadn’t I still wouldn’t be reading it).  Then I will get to see her and she will rest for awhile and then we will go home.

We went out for dinner tonight.  It was a nice place – probably nicer than we could afford (we owe a lot of people money) but we were frugal in our choices.  She still doesn’t have much appetite since her last chemo, though that was weeks ago, so she made do with an appetizer and some clam chowder.  I had fish and chips.  We split a dessert.  It was fun and charming and romantic and above all normal except for the scarf.  There’s still a scarf.

After dinner we went for a walk along the waterfront.  It’s hard, in a way, to do that.  I used to go for long beach walks, and hikes, and camping with her and now a five-minute walk on flat, paved ground leaves her needing to rest and that’s painful to see.  But at the same time it was nice and romantic to sit on a bench together, just the two of us, watching the sky dim (Bay Area fog = no real sunset), watching a couple play with their dogs, watching the waves on the rocks and the pelicans and that one lone, stubborn surfer who just wouldn’t come in until catching one last wave.  Chatting about inconsequential things.  Being close.  Sharing warmth.  Sharing history.

It was nice.

Sometimes you just have to let tomorrow be tomorrow.

Sometimes you just have to live in the moment.

Sometimes, even knowing that bad times are ahead, you have to focus on the good time that is now.

Sometimes you need to acknowledge the the moment, savor it, use it to (re)build your strength.

Sometimes you just have to let yourself have fun, no matter how dire the future is.