A New Kind of Planning

It is no secret that we are a family of planners.  Mom still teases me about a time that I told her I was planning to be spontaneous.  We both know that she is where I got that from.  We tend to have vacations planned a year (or more) in advance.  We regularly talk about comparing our calendars.  It's usually around this time of year that Mom asks for our summer calendars and we start to plot travel plans for various summer bbqs/parties, going to NY, "work days" in my yard.  It's with that spirit that within days of Mom's diagnosis, we had a paper calendar (with colored markers) to plot a couple of months at a time, a larger marker board calendar to hang at Mom and Dad's house, and a shared gmail calendar that updates us all on Mom's appointments.  All those calendars gave me a bit of a false sense of normalcy.  A month ago, if it was on the calendar, it may as well be done already (see original post re: tax payment).

I've learned a really important lesson in the last 10 days-one that I'm sure I will carry with me long after we've kicked cancer out of our lives.  Sometimes, just because a plan is made, doesn't mean it can happen.  We've all had to learn to listen to our gut, our heart, our body, and adjust as we go.  Two weeks in a row, we've talked a big game on Wednesday or Thursday only to get to Saturday and not have the energy to do what we had hoped (ie: there are no haircut pictures yet).  And we've adjusted. 

Yesterday, Jess spent the day in the kitchen cooking for Mom and Dad.  Their fridge is as full as I have ever seen it.  Homemade hummus was on the counter (not in a bowl).  Dad spilled some sauce on the counter while eating lunch.  I got crumbs on the couch.  All these things may (at a previous time) a have been a bit of a stressor, but, instead, we laughed about it.  Later in the afternoon, Mom said "I don't know which of the drugs is making me not stress about little things."  Before responding, I thought how often I'd had the thought that I wish it was as easy as just giving me a drug.  But, instead, I think the answer is perspective.  In just 2 short weeks, we've been given a real dose of perspective that changes the way we think about all the little stuff.  There is no sweating the small stuff anymore...we just don't.  And now, the only "plan" for the next few months is to listen to Mom's body, have some fun when we can, and beat this together, with the love and support of all of you.

I know that I shouldn't push it.  Mom probably will still care a little bit if we leave the kitchen a mess!