On the downside I can't do "Battle Royal's", where I lay on the ground and wrestle with Che. Every battle ended with us rolling in the yard, laughingly hugging face to face, and I inhale the hot breath of pure joyous laughter eyeball-to-eyeball.
On the upside, Sarah purchased and put together a 3 feet deep pool in our backyard, and I can float and Che attacks me, we wrestle, laughing face to face spitting water and huge gulps of hot pure joy.
"The Lord always provides a way," I was taught going up, and that may well be but, the sad fact is, I'm not physically capable of doing things I was doing a few short months ago.
It grates on me.
Like Seasoning Salt.
Reaching for it, the extra tall bottle with the bright red cap, the Seasoning Salt isn't in it's place among Sarah's alphabetically ordered spices.
Three days later, I find it by the Olive Oil in the cabinet above the stove.
"How did it get there?" Sarah laughs exhaustively.
"I have no idea," I muse, having no recollection whatsoever.
"It's so frustrating," I sigh, feeling defeated.
"Oh honey, it's nothing," Sarah scoffs, trying to make me feel better. "Everybody misplaces things like that."
Honestly, we're aware of the constant acceptance of slowly losing control over things I've always easily commanded. We worry what these omens mean for our future and they weigh heavily on us.
I used to write it out of me, effortlessly crafting letters, articles, books, blogs and songs but the energy and focus required are things I now struggle to maintain.
Thank God for Twitter. Interacting with people around the world in 280 characters is tremendously fun, well within my manageable focus and energy.
All my life, regardless of the situation I find myself, I've tried to find the fun in it and things usually get better.
Usually.
We're under no illusions anything's going to improve this time.
On Twitter I boast I'm, "defying death by coloring with Che" posting a pic of our works in progress.
We understand what an outliner I'm becoming and what an accomplishment it is to be living, and doing okay, with stage 4 pancreatic cancer after 3 years!
Sarah and I rarely discuss these things, choosing instead to focusing completely on the day we've been gifted.
On the one hand, all the news we get is usually bad.
On the other hand, Sarah, Che and I have wonderful days playing UNO, Monopoly, Legos, making art, feeding turtles, cooking, lounging in a 3 ft back yard pool and, sometimes, we dance.
That's how I look at it.
Sarah let's me live as though these are the only things to think about though, I know she lives a whole other life, handling everything so I can focus exclusively on living. It means she enables me to seek out the joys with the people and things I love most.
I see how hard caregiving is for her.
Today is a family trip to the Mayo Clinic for 2 days of tests and meetings. I'm sitting in the backseat with Che. Sarah's driving Cassidy's car because the air conditioner's broken in her's. Cass sits in the passenger seat.
We're spending the night as this is likely our "summer trip" and Che's beside herself with excitement.
"TODAY IS MAYO DAY!" she said as soon as she woke up, asking me to help pack her backpack, hours before it's time to leave.
The downside is this regiment is wearing us out.
The upside is FAMILY ROAD TRIP!!
What's not to love?
