Please excuse me while I have a minor nervous breakdown.
My wife just walked into the room wearing a smart red pantsuit with a stunning red and black headscarf and announced she was driving herself to a couple of stores to do some Christmas shopping.
Mind you, she has just been through six months of chemotherapy, a double mastectomy and six weeks of radiation. It’s not that I don’t trust her driving. I can fall asleep as she drives us on a family vacation with no problem. I just thought she might want the scars on her chest to stop hurting before she resumed solo driving.
I did not even try to stop her because after 44 years of marriage I know not to attempt the impossible. So, even as I am writing this, she is going up and down the aisles of a crowded store and humming Jingle Bells. This, I have to admit, is preferable to what she has been enduring since last March.
She has a follow up doctor’s appointment in a couple of weeks. And she’s in the process of planning for us to spend a few days between Christmas and New Years at DisneyWorld.
That reminds me of the Super Bowl when an announcer asks the winner quarterback, “You’ve just won the Super Bowl! What are you going to do next?”
Only with my wife, the question is, “You’ve just kicked cancer’s butt! What are you going to do next?” Her reply would be, “I’m going Christmas shopping!”
Note: This addendum was written two hours later, and my wife has returned from shopping. No problems with the traffic. She had fun. The pain ain’t anything she can’t handle.
I’m so proud of her!