Summer is Coming

Today we did a three-mile walk up and down the hills.  We were huffing and puffing but moving along pretty well. As we made the turn to come back home I said to John, “Do you remember the summer after your first surgery; you could not walk from our front door to the car.” He did remember. It’s a shock still, how that cutting into flesh and being sewn back together took away so much strength. He looked the same but could not walk at all.

Now we hike and do hills and push each other on. We went to the movies at the

mall yesterday, ate burgers for dinner, went to the grocery store together. None of that possible in CancerLand days.

That summer chemo changed so many things. No movies, no malls, no grocery stores. Even the tiniest bit of air-conditioned air caused him excruciating pain as his throat closed and froze. He couldn’t even look in the refrigerator. I had to learn to cook. That turned out to be one of the gifts of Cancer Land—I became a cook.

But the summer when it all began was so shocking and crazy. 

I think about this today as we hike and run and dress for a trip to Tanglewood tonight. So many things changed. We grew from them and with them. It isn’t everyone’s path. Cancer sometimes ends relationships. It can be too much. There is no blame for that. It can just be too dam hard sometimes.

But what I feel today is gratitude and grace, and I’m cherishing every day we get.