FourFiveSeconds

I know. I've been writing with a lot of seriousness and "meaning-of-life" type posts but sometimes you gotta work through the deep stuff to get to the good stuff. I've had a lot of time this summer to analyze and overanalyze what my life means to me. Apparently, it wasn't enough to have to battle cancer with chemo and radiation and all the rest. Now, it's about survivorship. Survivorship is a crazy ride. Riddled with doubt, guilt, fear, pure extreme joy and sadness and barely containable desire to slap people silly. Really? Every day, I say this to myself at least 100 times... (really? Really? REALLY?) Sometimes, I look at people in awe that they just wasted 30 seconds of their life complaining about something stupid or dwelling on something they have absolutely no control over. At some point, you have to move on and appreciate the fact that air is still passing in and out of your lungs and really big things are happening to people around you like death, divorce, illness, love, requited and unrequited, and the joy of new life. But no, we have to throw a fit because we dropped our cell phone in the toilet, or broke a glass dish or spilled a glass of milk. I have NO tolerance for this.
Recently, our family went to a football game about 3 hours from our home. We left late. Why? Because we did. Nobody was moving their feet, somebody forgot their charger, or couldn't find their sunglasses... It was the classic family vortex sucking us into our house and preventing us from leaving on time. I have a lot of experience with this since I'm the one who is generally the person shuttling people out the door. My husband, on the other hand, travels for work, so he's not always plugged in to the trappings of trying to mobilize a herd of cats in the same direction. On the weekends, I let him do it because he needs the practice, and frankly, I'm tired of constantly taking responsibility for not getting everyone where they need to be on time, with clothes on and water bottles conveniently stashed somewhere. Needless to say, it set the stage for another grand cancer "a-ha" moment for our family. When we finally got in the car and on the road, my darling hubs tried to break the land speed record only to be stymied by lanes and lanes of traffic. I swear that everyone in California was trying to get to the same darn place at the same darn time. It was practically a road rally race. No matter which way we tried, we ran into stop and go traffic on all the major thoroughfares. The universe was sending us a message: "Nope, not this time. You guys need to leave earlier."
Personally, I couldn't have been more stoked. We were on our way to an epic football game between two ginormous football clubs. We had great seats. We were meeting great friends. The sun was shining, I was breathing, and life was good. The kids were tolerating the whole traffic situation well. We only had to endure the "are we there yet," for the last portion of our 3 hour epic that turned into 4. Meanwhile, smoke is starting to rise out of my husband's ears. His angst is escalating as we get closer and closer to kickoff and have only inched a mile on the road. As the tension builds, he starts to passively distribute accountability.
"We need to leave earlier next time."
"We need to not plan sleepovers prior to big events."
"We are all going to miss the first half, because WE made some very poor choices."
"WE paid a fortune for these tickets."
Granted, he was correct and we had an opportunity for a teaching moment but the angrier he became, the more that moment slipped away. WE all got it. WE were all missing out and WE were all feeling it. However, my husband felt the need to continue to verbalize the WE phrases, as if to  recruit us into feeling as crappy as he did, and it made for an awful experience.
Anger, well any emotion really, is like a hungry puppy. It will grow to an epic size if you feed it and continue to feed it. It will also multiply like promiscuous rabbits and spread like wildfire. Anxiety, sadness, love, all have the same tendency, and part of being an adult is knowing when to stop feeding unhealthy emotions and choosing to feed healthy ones instead. Survivorship magnifies this times 50. Fortunately, my husband kept his cool (enough) and got us to the game safely. We got to our seats and were able to enjoy much of the game. As we sat there on a gorgeous day, watching the best in the world compete in their sport, surrounded by fans and friends, my husband sat and stewed in his own frustration. Despite my attempts to cheer him up with smiles, funny faces, and incessant selfies, he was determined to be miserable. This is soooo unusual for him. Usually the tables are turned and it is he, talking me off of the proverbial ledge. Put. the. gun. down.......
I don't talk anyone down quite as well as he does, because frankly, I don't have the patience for it. He was difficult to diffuse and I was not going to spend my awesome day at an awesome game feeding his internal beast. The second half of the game was awesome. 4 goals were scored and we witnessed 3 of them, plus numerous attempts on the post, and 3 yellow cards. It was a super show. We also got to experience it with fans from home which always makes for a crazy good time.
After the game, we got back in the car and headed home. By this time, my DH can hardly speak without some sort of poison coming out and it's clear that the day is shot to hell for him. He refuses to meet our friends for dinner because he "just wants to get home." I am genuinely sad for him. And then, I begin to feel my own angry monster start to rise. I choose not to feed it....yet. After all, I have 3 hours in the car, weaving through traffic in hopes of getting home and salvaging whatever was left of our dignity. It was another wild ride fraught with close calls and near misses and an occasional expletive. Both of my girls sat quietly in the back seat. They didn't speak. They didn't bicker over petty inequalities. Tension in the driver's seat was palpable, and nobody wanted to light the match that was going to set off the bomb.
We got home safely and without incident, for which, I am grateful, of course. Gratitude always works for me in diffusing frustrations or dealing with difficult emotions. There is always something to be grateful for and the time you take to look for it, makes you forget why you went looking for it in the first place. I do my best to inspire my better half to see the gratitude.  One of the girls did not get her chores done and Dad decided to let her have it, which triggered my "hell hath no fury" button, and boom...... I went off.
"REALLY?"
I held nothing back. And it had an effect.
My complaint is this. We don't always choose our emotions but we do choose whether or not they control us. Last week, I thought I had cancer. This week, it's back to survivorship and gratitude for every single particle of life that I get to spend with my family. EVERY MOMENT counts. Every moment develops into a series of moments and the emotions we assign to these moments are what make them memorable. Anger happens. Frustration arises. You gotta have the unhealthy emotions to appreciate the healthy ones. But you always have a choice to nurture that anger or that frustration or to nurture something else.
Cancer survivors are masters of living in the moment. We are poor planners and we don't learn from mistakes because it is THIS moment that matters. We have an opportunity to create a memory. Right here. Right now. When I'm swirling the drain, clinging to the few moments I have left on this planet, the last thing I will choose to remember is the traffic, or the anger, or the frustration. It will be the smiles on my kids faces, the sea of Barcelona shirts in the stands, the roar of the crowd when a goal is scored. It is that palpable experience that leaves its mark on the soul I will take with me in the end.
My challenge in survivorship is realizing that nobody around me sees this. I pointed it out to my husband quite frankly, and he got it right quick. He looked in my eyes and saw what I was talking about and profusely apologized. He salvaged the moment and ultimately the day because he knew I have no patience for anyone who doesn't appreciate finding the good in each moment or appreciates the opportunity of creating a memory in every single second, every single breath. I have streamlined my life to do this and am fortunate that our life affords this possibility. People come first. My kids, my friends, my love, all come first and all at the same time so that I may squeeze every possible drop of goodness out of this very important second, minute or hour.
Ironically, in a recent conversation with a friend, they told me that I had a "zest" for life, and that it was refreshing to see me living all of my moments to the fullest. They pledged to do the same...., so I called them out on it.
"Hey, I'm in town for a few days. Wanna grab lunch?"
"Sorry, I'm too busy with work this week."

Really?