My husband and I have this ongoing argument about daily life. I am the whimsical, laid-back, easy breezy one who knows everything will be okay. Well you can imagine what happened to that when cancer hit… I really could care less about petty stuff. To me why does a clean house matter? Why do the clothes have to be folded RIGHT now? Why does STUFF matter?
To me things are just things.
What matters to me most are emotions, relationships, experiences, people, moments, memories.
For most people, it is easy to get swept up in the materialism our country LOVES to keep us obsessed with. But I just can’t. I can’t even pretend.
But the fact of the matter is, regardless of having cancer… I still need to do chores.
I need to respect my husband’s wishes and I need to make what is important to him, important to me. Not to mention, the life lessons I need to teach my daughters (and hopefully pass on how to be a better homemaker than me), I continually have to remind myself that most people do not and will not get my perspective until they have danced in front of death.
I have to be patient and lovingly remind them of what is really important. Like making memories together, taking those trips together, enjoying those special moments together.
The other day I mentioned to my husband how excited I am for November 23rd this year… he looked at me confused and asked why. I reminded him that, that date signifies 10 years that we have been together. For me this is reason to celebrate, I want to celebrate any chance I get because life is so fleeting. To me it is like, why not celebrate?? But for many others, they get bogged down with life and don’t understand why it is necessary.
What goes through my head is, how is it not necessary??
I constantly hear stories about how as soon as survivors are “done” taking their hormone suppressants the cancer returns and down they go. That is frightening.
I am on my hormone suppressant for 10 years. So, does that mean this medicine has literally bought me 10 more years to spend with my family? To be married to my best friend? To be a mom? To live life? And at 44 years old I could possibly be at the end of my own life?
And you wonder why I don’t care about doing chores… but off I go to scrub that toilet… because well, it has to be done.
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