Hope Springs

My part of the world, Eastern Canada, is experiencing many spring-like days this winter. Last year at this time we were battling snow, piling it higher than our heads. No, really. I was shoveling snow up over my shoulder and, during a break, made a snow angel WHILE standing up. I’m 5’8″. You do the math.

Anyway, today has been a perfectly lovely spring day…in February. I was outside in my sandals, yoga pants, a t-shirt and a cardigan. My search for a new job continues, but this is the kind of day that lifts the spirit and allows one to open the windows of the soul. Throw open the sash and let the sunshine and fresh air in. It is a great time to sweep the cobwebs from the corners of the mind and sleep from the corners of the eyes.

People on my social media feeds are posting pictures of bright purple and yellow crocuses, curly points of tulips and pussy  willows. Oh, the joy these little buds bring!

This feels like the time of year when the heart stirs and quickens, the limbs shake off shivery thoughts of heavy quilts, mulled wine and Netflix. We start to dream again of bonfire sparks floating up to dance with the stars, of the cooling lick of salty waves on our toes, and of sultry kisses on sun-dappled, perspiration-dewed skin. Sigh.

We might be thrown back into a blizzard in the next few weeks, but, Hope, folks (yes, with a capital H), it springs to life and screams its rage at winter and sorrow and death. It stomps about and yells, “Not yet! Not today!”

If you are in a part of the world where winter still holds you in its icy grip, here are a couple of songs that helped inspire this blog as I danced around my living room. Be sure to crank the volume so ol’ man winter can hear the music through the closed (for now) windows.

 

Choose the Pebble

It was June when I was first heard, “Your husband has advanced melanoma.”

After receiving this news, my husband and I cried together while we absorbed this information. We kept saying, “We can beat this,” but my mind rushed to all the worst places it could go and, as an administrative assistant, I immediately started planning for worst case scenarios. Then, after a few days of planning his funeral in my mind, I realized, “Gee, he’s taking this quite well.” And I started to watch him. I looked for signs that my alpha-male husband was cracking under the pressure; that he was just hiding his true thoughts and feelings to spare me. I slowly realized that he wasn’t. In his mind, he had already beaten cancer.

Now, I have worked in the healthcare industry and I had done my research so I was well aware that, since he also has lupus and a blood-clotting disorder, he has a less than 40% chance of survival. I started thinking he was living in a fantasy world and I was angry with him for not facing this situation with me. I became like a pebble in his shoe, nagging him to do this or think that or read this research that explains how likely he is to die from this type of aggressive cancer. But he would crack a joke or just ignore me, which made me angrier. I felt like I was fighting for his life on my own.

Then I noticed that, emotionally, he was starting to pull away from me, and it occurred to me that I could lose him before cancer even has a chance to take him from me. I knew something had to change and it wasn’t him. Who was I to tell him he’s wrong in having a positive attitude? So I changed MY attitude. It’s a struggle and I’m certainly not a constant ray of sunshine.

After all, I have read the research and cancer websites and I am aware that my husband’s chances aren’t great. But, there is a chance. And soon, instead of seeing this as my husband’s final months on earth, I started seeing this as, just an awful situation that we have to get through, but that we would get through it…together.

The doctors are amazed that we joke around while we wait for our appointments. They don’t usually hear laughter coming from waiting rooms filled with cancer patients. These doctors also seem relieved to work with people who are not angry with them or panicking. And they start to smile and spend a little more time with us to discuss options and answer our questions. One doctor even joined in when we were coming up with cool and funny stories to tell people about where my husband’s scar came from. “Tell them you tried to stop a bank robbery and got stabbed! Or you got hit by a car while saving a baby in a runaway carriage!” Not to mention the great Halloween costume ideas we started coming up with: Frankenstein, Phantom of the Opera, a zombie…including a built in scar on his face and neck.

I like to think that, for these doctors who deal with frightened, angry people and death each day, we are a bright spot in their day. Perhaps they talk to colleagues over coffee or to their family over dinner about this hopeful and goofy couple.

Like a pebble in a pond, perhaps our hope and laughter will continue to ripple outward and inspire someone else, and their ripples will reach out to more people. We may not change the world, but, our ripple may, eventually, inspire someone who will. Maybe someday the ripple will even make its way back to us again when we need a reminder to keep going.

I told you all that so I could say to you: Life and work will not always be easy. However, you will find that you can get a lot farther, and it will be much less painful for everyone if you choose to be a pebble in a pond, not a pebble in a shoe.

[Written Oct 3, 2014]