The weather in Vancouver has been splendid. Fifty degrees, sunny, clear blue skies. My parents, who arrived last week from Pennsylvania where the temperature is frigid and there are buckets of snow, think it's cold here. Their perception of the weather reminds me to remember--everything in context.
I'm riding a roller coaster around and around. Sometimes, I sink into an unforgiving existentialist mindset that sucks. Other times, I feel like skipping down the sidewalk, despite the sharp breaks that threaten to trip me up.
For instance, last night, I felt brave enough to pick up "The Idiot's Guide to Living with Breast Cancer" and flipped through it before going to sleep. The book has been collecting dust on my shelf for, oh, six months. As light and supportive as the authors try to make the material out to be, my mind got hooked on the fact that I was reading a handbook that included a straightforward chapter on dying and accepting death. I'm really not ready to learn this how-to. I don't feel this is my context, yet.
My situation is serious. My chart at the cancer agency says so. But I don't feel like it is. Sure, some days I feel like the biggest pile of poo ever, but I don't honestly believe that I'm going to die any time soon. I just don't. How could I? I have two of the loveliest children to ever have been born, a wonderfully caring and scary-smart/charismatic husband, family and friends who care enough to write/call/email me and say "you're not a loser!"...Yeah, I'm not going to die. I am invincible right now, in this context.