What?!
No. Seriously... What?!
Just give me a minute and let me explain.
Every once and a while, I get stir crazy. Okay, okay. More than once and awhile, according to Chris. (Oy, what that man doesn't put up with!) I have so many dreams. Big ones, super-big ones, super-big-seemingly-unrealistic ones, small ones, tiny ones, and seriously-you're-so-out-there ones. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on the day, really) I believe that these dreams - no matter how big, small, or seemingly unrealistic they be - are absolutely, one hundred percent achievable. And that's a good thing, right? So much faith. So much trust. So much believing and knowing in the magic of the Universe and my Higher Self...
But then, every so often, Impatience strikes. Yes, I want to go to Jamaica - and I want to go now. Sure, a week-long boat trip to Roche Harbor sounds divine - and I want to go now. Yes, those Frye boots are absolutely the coolest things I've ever seen (despite their $388 price tag) - and I want them now.
And, in my impatience, I forget to value the present moment. To count all the wonderful, over-the-top, out-of-this-world blessings that I have now. A pleasant night at home watching the usual re-runs while sipping a cup of tea? Boring. An afternoon spent cleaning and puttering around our apartment? Been there, done that. A Saturday where the only trip we make is to the grocery store? Hardly exciting.
At least, that's the way I feel when I come down with a case of Impatience.
Yesterday we found out that Dehlia has cancer. One of her lovable lumps (as we've always referred to them as) is a Mast Cell Tumor. We've only done a needle biopsy so far, so we don't know what stage it's in. As it's a fairly new lump (her others are just fatty bumps) and hasn't changed in size or shape since we first noticed it, we're holding faith that it is just a stage one and can be completely taken care of with surgery. (It's scheduled for tomorrow.)
Last night, after a few tears, hugs, and worst-case-scenario indulgences, Chris and I put our heads back on straight, sat down on the couch, and returned our attention to the positive. Sitting next to Dehlia, we felt our hearts soar while watching Abraham, laughed along with Seinfeld, Rules of Engagement, and Wings, and finally sat on the edge of our seats in nail biting anticipation during Happy Town. At the end of the evening, as we laid in bed, I realized with a pleasant shudder that we had just had the perfect night. That, all dreams aside, there was no place else I would have rather been. Nothing else I would have rather done. Last night, cancer helped me to appreciate my life as it is right now. It helped me to live in the moment.
And cancer will continue to help me remember what is important.
Why is it that we really only appreciate what we have when it's in danger of being taken away from us? And I'm not referring to a person, an animal, or a thing. I'm talking about our Now. Our present moment. Our lives as they are at this very second...
Honestly, I don't know. And, at the moment, I don't care to spend the time to try to figure it out. I'm just going to sit here with Dehlia, rest my hand on her back, and feel her breathe.
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"I talk to him when I'm lonesome like; and I'm sure he understands. When he looks at me so attentively, and gently licks my hands; then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes, but I never say naught thereat. For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes, but never a friend like that."
-- W. Dayton Wedgefarth
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