The universe is kind

One of the things that continues to inspire me is the kindness of my friends and family.

For almost two years the people in my life have been unbelievably generous. With their time, with their food, with their love.

I could probably give a weekly example of this kindness

Girlfriends who answer desperate text messages, sisters who take care of kids and me.

This week kindness is manifesting itself in a house in Montana.

A friend has opened her home to my crew, and we keep pinching ourselves, and wondering how we ever came to know anyone who would let us stay in such a  beautiful mountain home.

I wonder how I can ever repay such kindness.

All I can do is say thank you.

To each and every one of you.  

Time on your hands

On the eve, of the eve, of the biggest display of consumerism in the world, the one thing I want, is the one thing I can't buy. 

Time.

Time to sit and watch Harris as he practices his Iron Man poses. 
Time to play game after game after game with Harper. 
Time to watch Graham play Basketball.
Time to talk to Doug. 
Time to write.

I had my second 3 month check up on Friday.  This time I went in with a lot less anxiety than last time.  After having every screening possible in the last 6 months, I could not imagine anything other than a clean test.

Which is exactly what happened.  3 more months of good living coming right up.

I had a moment on Saturday when I was trying to get Doug to tell me what he wanted for Christmas.  I am constantly trying to surprise him, to give him the unexpected, perfect gift.

He reminded me that the only thing he wanted was to experience life with me.

All he wanted was time.

 
 

Can I borrow that?

Doug and I were out to dinner last weekend, when I noticed he was wearing a new sweater.

"I would look really cute in that." I said.

To which he replied, "I am not sure how to answer that."

"Trust me, if I want to wear it, I will find it, no matter where you try and hide it." I laughed.

I reminded him of how, after months of begging, my parents finally put a lock on my older sisters door, out of sympathy.  You see,  Kristy and I were merciless in our "borrowing" from her wardrobe, and no amount of yelling, begging, or threatening was going to stop us.

We were so good we could even sneak in while she was sleeping in order to grab a cool pair of pants, sweater, skirt, shoes.

The lock on the door only made procurement a little more challenging - but not impossible.

Kristy and I devised a system where one of us would hold the 12 foot ladder that reached Andrea's bedroom window, while the other climbed up and through, opening the door on the other side.

I told Doug we did this every day.  Sometimes twice a day, since we had to get the "borrowed" clothes back into the locked bedroom.

So if I really wanted to borrow his new sweater, there was nothing he could do about it.  And it was likely he would never know.

Backgammon

A lifetime ago, when Doug and I lived in Switzerland, all we had to entertain ourselves, other than beautiful Bern, were books, CNN, and Backgammon.

Such simple times.  We would spend our days working out, one night a week I would have a Volleyball match, or he would have a Basketball game.  Time was on our side.

It was a great way to spend the first year of a marriage.  Our only priority was each other.  And we really had no one else to lean on, so if we were angry at one another we had to resolve it quick.

One of my favorite memories of this time were the endless games of Backgammon we would play.

I suffer from magical thinking, so I make much riskier moves than Doug.  At times this works in my favor, but most of the time it results in my pieces being put in jail, where they remain as Doug runs the board.

You would think after 20 years of trying to beat him at this game I would have changed my strategy.

But those of you who have known me for longer than Doug, know that my noggin is pretty hard.

Last night we pulled out the board and began to teach Graham the ways of Backgammon.

I am the acknowledged better teacher of the family.  While I have a hard head, I do like to learn the way things are supposed to be done and copy that.  I shoot a basketball with perfect form, swing a golf club with a traditional grip, ski on my edges.

Doug on the other hand is a total non conformist.  He is admittedly utterly un-coachable.  I gave up a long time ago, and now find this to be one of his more endearing qualities (after it drove me to the loony bin for more than a decade).

Anyway, because of this Graham and I were on one team, Doug on the other.

Doug's first roll - double sixes.

It was downhill from there.

But really it wasn't.  Here we were, 19 years later, with our beautiful first born, moving pieces around a board.

And I was quite certain, life doesn't get much better than this.

Until Next Year

Happy to report that I am finished with medical tests (except for my blood draws) for a year.

Today I had my colonoscopy and endoscopy - insert "both ends" joke here.

I will spare you all the gross parts.  Much like your mammogram at 40 - don't forget to get your colonoscopy at 50.  It would be stupid to die of such an easily caught cancer.

Since I have been on the defense a lot lately, I decided that this weekend I would slowly shift to being on the offense.

This manifested itself in my seeing a naturopath who specializes in people with cancer.

As I sat with him, we went through a myriad of the typical questions.  "Type of cancer, treatment received, diet, exercise, etc."

When he saw that I had 3 kids he asked their ages.

"5, 6, 8", I replied.

"wow", he said.

And before I could let him get another word out I said, "I know, I had 3 kids in 3 years."

The Dr. just shook his head and said, "No , I was thinking you had kids  4, 5, 7, while going through chemo."

I smiled and said, "It gave me something to live for."

The curls get the girls

Doug thinks I am obsessed with my hair.  I talk about it incessantly with just about everyone.

It is a constant source of fascination.  I can not tell you how many times I have been asked, "Was it that curly before?  Was it that color?"

And when I run into people who I have not seen in a while, they usually do not recognize me, then recognize me, then excitedly talk to me about my hair, and then laugh at how curly it is.

I can remember telling Doug, just weeks before my diagnosis, that I was, "never going to cut my hair short again."

So much for that.

In case you were wondering what exactly I am talking about - check me out!

H+D

My reflection

I met a bunch of my mom friends for a play date today.

There is this great indoor play space in Portland that serves good coffee, has comfortable seating, and enough to occupy the kids for HOURS.

I like to get there pretty early, grab a cozy spot, read the paper and ignore the Eikenkids.

This was working really well for me today, I think I had just finished the  Sunday Styles section when I noticed my reflection.

Sitting about 20 feet away was a young(er) woman, white knit slouchy hat, nerdy glasses, dark eyebrows.

And I just knew.

We were eventually standing next to each other, and I complemented her hat.

"It is a cute way to cover my bald head" she said.

I reached into my bag to pull it my own white knit slouchy hat and said, "I still haven't let go of mine."

What followed was a deeply personal and meaningful conversation that can only be had by two people who have lived parallel lives.

Her name is Lucy(!), she is 40, this is her 2nd go round with breast cancer.  She just finished her final round of chemo and was giving her husband a break that day by getting the kids out of the house for a few hours.

Later when my sister arrived she told me she started walking in her direction, thinking it was me.

It took her a few moments to remember that we were all finished with that nonsense, that now when I wear my knit cap it is to try and contain the head of Shirley Temple curls sprouting from my head.

Heal and Deal