Plans

I was watching the news this morning (I’m a CBS 58 or TMJ 4 kind of girl), and a thought occurred to me: I’ve started actually making plans again.

This doesn’t seem like a big deal to most. On an average day I’m sure everyone thinks about vacation, their home, or retirement. When those things crossed my mind the last 7 months, I’ve acknowledged the thought but never went any further. I even stopped putting into my 401K after I learned I had an advanced stage, you know, in case I died. 

Things I spent a lot of time planning during that time, however, were my advance directive, living trust, and will. You know... in case I died. 

Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I’m an over planner. I buy Christmas presents for the next year as early as the day after Christmas. I brainstorm birthday ideas for the kids months in advance. I love planning. 

After my diagnosis making plans took a nose dive. Did I buy Christmas gifts for the next year during after Christmas sales? Sure, a few, but nothing like my norm. Partly because my money has all gone towards paying medical bills, and partly because I wasn’t sure if I would be here. I figured the few I bought Tyler could use for whomever, should I not be around to give them. (You know, like if I died.)

We have talked about selling our house and moving out of the city and into a suburb, but after my diagnosis we stopped talking about it seriously. It became a pipe dream, and our main concern became not losing our house instead of buying a new one. After last weeks’ good news we began talking about it more seriously again. We started asking each other questions like, “do we change this to what we want, or wait in case we decide to move?” It was no longer hypothetical. We were having real conversations about the future. How did I not notice this at the time?

Desmond and Evelyn’s birthdays were a shell of my normal planning. Desmond’s 10th birthday fell 6 weeks after my diagnosis. We had a sleep over with his friends planned that we had to cancel, and instead family dropped by as they could if they had presents for him. There was no party for Evelyn’s 2nd birthday. We went to brunch, we celebrated, but I didn’t plan much aside from choosing the date. Shamus’s birthday is coming up at the end of July, and Friday night I asked him what he wanted to do. His first response was “Wait, I get a party this year?” Followed by “I want to do something with Hunter and Mason.” (The boys’ best friends.) The boys’ excitement over the question was a blow to my heart, but thinking of it this morning makes me happy, knowing the whole family is feeling the positive effects of remission.

Tyler and I have brain stormed vacations we’d like to go on, but even those we stopped talking about. Sure we could repeate things we’d already talked about, but any new plans, any new brain storms, ceased. In fact, previous plans we just assumed wouldn’t actually happen. 

Then, last night we began planning our next vacation. During our discussion I told him that once we had some disposable income again, that I wanted to LIVE. Not just day to day, but I want to go and do the things we talk about. We are not adventurous, let’s be clear. Our dreams are an Alaskan whale watching cruise and eating our way around the US. We don’t want to climb mountains or travel the world. We want food and whales. During our conversation last night the weight of my attitude shift hadn’t occurred to me. 

As I sit here looking out the window into my backyard, thinking about how we’re actually PLANNING these things, I have tears sneaking out of the corners of my eyes. Am I afraid the other shoe will eventually drop? Absolutely. But it’s incredible to me that for at least a brief time (hopefully a LONG time), I can plan again.