|A view of Lake Winnipesaukee|
from the top of Abenaki Tower
It's our vacation on the lake and it's been a summer staple for us since before the kids were born. We've been visiting the same town, on the same lake since 2000. And since 2005, we've been staying in the same house. There's a serenity in the sameness; a calmness in the expected routine, even if it changes inch by inch as the boys -- as we all -- get older.
The last two years have been physically the same, but mentally, worlds apart. Last year, I was just starting an ill-fated new job and about one month past my diagnosis. My world was changing in so many ways and as good as it felt to be away, my head wasn't really there. I was consciously trying to sort out how to make my new job work out (that was a waste of time) and unconsciously trying to sort out how to make my new post-diagnosis life work out.
|Sunset over the lake, a view from our dock....Ahhhh...|
Of course, no matter how much you disconnect, a cancer diagnosis is never that far away. And I'd be lying to say that I never thought about it. I emailed back and forth a bit about the scheduling of my upcoming treatment; I talked about the logistics of that first treatment cycle. (The first day is between 6 and 10 hours of infusion!) The truth is, I didn't have a whole lot to think about, or to blog about. I begin treatment on September 13th, and sure, I'm hoping that the side effects will be minimal or unnoticeable. I'm hoping that I can continue to work, play, and live as I have been, with a couple days aside every four weeks.
Planning about the future (e.g, what will I bring to keep myself entertained on that first day) is different than worrying about the future. As I've said before, the present is the only thing you can change. When I begin treatment, I'll know how I feel, and I'll take it from there.