"Look," Sarah grins, sitting beside me in the Mayo Clinic waiting room with a bell we've never heard rung, "most everyone's wearing flip-flops and tee shirts.
I am in a funk and don't really hear my wife who's trying her best to pull me out of it.
I don't want another damn Chemo shot!
They keep me alive by making me sick.
I'm pretty sick of being sick.
Sarah's exhausted caregiving without ceasing.
Our life revolves around a shot every 28 days which is the only firm thing written in stone on Sarah's meticulously maintained calendar.
Truth is we live life one unanticipated minute at a time.
We make lots of plans that entertain us but are too busy dealing with the life we have before it disappears to actually carry out most of them though, God knows, Sarah tries.
Minutes can disappear at any minute and we're keenly aware of it, desperately finding joy where we can, focusing on not waiting for a later that may not come.
For months now I've poked fun at my monthly pain in the ass, literally, by dressing down for my Chemo shot while everyone else dresses up!
It's all about attitude, isn't that what they say?
Today I can't muster up attitude and Sarah's trying to drag me out of it.
Eventually she does, as only she can, but it was several days later.
Now I'm already wondering what to wear next time because I am not going to miss Sarah trying to be funny again!
It's hard pulling off finding or making fun during the best of circumstances and I'm determined to live for the joy surrounding me and celebrate it in real time.
There is no other time.
"How about this?" I ask, wearing a t-shirt instructing us to choose, "Stage left" with an arrow pointing in one direction over an opposite line offering "Stage right."
She rolls the most beautiful eyes between crow's feet I've watched form and deepen because of me.
Back at Mayo, no one notices my shirt because we're rushing around cramming 2 days worth of appointments into 1 culminating with the Doctor who tells us how I'm doing.
"The good news is the cancer's stopped growing. The bad news is a side effect of your shot is you now have diabetes. This cannot be fixed by diet and exercise but we can give you a daily pill to take, which of course may cause other side effects.”
Sarah dissects our Oncologist with questions like a scalpel slicing skin.
We further learn my white blood cells are exploding in number when they should be stabilizing. He talks about his suspicions and orders more test.
I get another shot.
They take more blood.
Driving home, Sarah eats a Dairy Queen concoction as I munch on boiled peanuts though we're having a hard time because we're laughing so hard.
"He sure was proud the cancer stopped growing wasn’t he?" Sarah giggles.
"Yep," I laugh. "Did his job. Another's Doc's problem for the Diabetes. He'll get back to us on that other matter."
We grow quiet passing Darien.
"I love our Doctor," she says.
"Me too," I agree.
"Did you see how he thanked us at the end. He said his whole day had been telling people bad news and this is the first good news he's told anyone."
"If we're the highlight of his day, a lot of people had some really shitty ones."
Sarah holds my hand and we drive home in silence.
