Happiness is a Warm Puppy

It's been three months since I've posted, and almost a year since my surgery. I thought I'd write an update about how it's going.

The title of this post was inspired by my dog, Caleb (and of course Charles M. Shulz). Caleb the corgi looks up adoringly at me like this frequently.

To be honest, he kind of adores me but really adores the treat I have in my hand... 

A lot of the day while I'm working he's sacked out, like this.

At other times, he's trying to steal a bagel off the table or is barking incessantly at squirrels. But most of the time, he's an easy, amusing companion.

Often I'm able to find moments of happiness through very simple means, such as noticing my dog, savoring a funny thing that one of my daughters says, or sitting in the sun for a bit.

Last year on days I didn't feel well, any small good thing seemed extra large. The world shrinks when you don't feel good - we all know this from times we've been sick. You notice the small kindnesses more when you're vulnerable.

There were some days when a walk around a couple of blocks was an achievement, and I noticed the flowers were beautiful. A friend would come over to spend time with me, and we'd sit on my patio, and I would listen as she would talk (holding up your end of a basic conversation can be exhausting when you're exhausted). These friends were lifesavers!

Even logging onto Words With Friends and seeing that six people had made their move and it was my turn, meant that there was something distracting and quick to do that made me feel connected to whomever I was playing. These games saved my sanity some days!

Before last year, I didn't pay attention to these kinds of small blessings very often. I didn't stop to really soak in something good that was happening. And that's one of so many ways that having had cancer has changed me and changed my life for the better.

The Upsides of Cancer

A few years ago a friend of ours successfully battled cancer and wrote a moving essay afterwards about the upsides. I read it then, and last year I asked for another copy so I could read it again.

I think it's safe to say that I've found most of the cliches about the experience of moving through illness to be true. I feel stronger, I appreciate and notice each individual day in a new way, I am less bothered by problems that used to seem large, and many of my relationships are stronger. I'm also less afraid and less risk averse.

I'm much more skilled at being mindful and I'm better educated about how to stay healthy.

I'm more sensitive to what people who deal with chronic health issues are going through and may need.

I've met some new people who are pretty amazing and inspiring.

In the four months since I've completed cancer treatment, I've been able to help three strangers who are new to cancer.

Next month I'm going to model in a fashion show/fundraising event that benefits women who are going through breast cancer treatment and need financial help. All the models are breast cancer survivors. 

I've finally reached a stage where a day will go by and I won't think about cancer once. That's a big milestone. I'm also mostly not bothered with anxiety about recurrence. It's there, but it doesn't take over.

Hair

Oh yes, the hair report.  Everyone wants to know about that!

Newsflash: it's growing! It's still blond and it's still short. I'm past the Rosemary's Baby stage and now have hair that's closer to the style of Charlize Theron at this year's Oscars.

It's thicker than hers and a little longer, and I haven't magically gotten 10 years younger or become a movie star, but other than that, I'm a dead ringer for Charlize.

 Another Cliche I Find is True

I have a lot less patience for busy work and doing things that I think are a big waste of time. I think this is because my ideas on time have shifted.

I used to live week in and week out, bouncing around from one obligation to the next with a vague idea that the time I had left on the planet stretched out sort of forever. No need to think about time's preciousness. I would lose track of goals, forget to have fun, not know where the time went, and take so much of what I had for granted. I think this is typical.

Now I want each and every day to count. Most days I feel a drive to pay attention to making the most of it. There are things I want to achieve, experiences I want to have, and places I want to go.

There are also quieter intentions I have around how I want to be in relationship with people and how I want to just be.

Hopefully I'll have 40+ more years to live this way.

So far my new regard and respect for time has meant that I take more deliberate actions, have more fun, and generally experience more "technicolor" in my life. Pretty great.

Many people my age don't have the opportunity to seriously consider their mortality, or don't take the opportunity even when it's offered. And I'm at a new and better place in my relationship with this inevitable reality because of my struggles over the past year.

There were lots of lemons last year, but now it's lemonade time.