It was a great day.
I woke up and my body didn’t ache from head to toe. I don’t really know why, I just felt better. Yes, I was stiff. Yes, I was sore. But when I planted my feet on the floor, the pain didn’t travel up my legs and pinch my lower back. It was more like the ordinary soreness you get a day or two after you’ve really worked your body hard.
Not only was the pain low, but the sun also made a glowing white halo around the blinds that shade my bedroom window. Weather clock said 54 degrees: Not Tahiti, but 54 and sunny at 8 a.m. in April meant a day headed for at least the 70s. And that meant top down on my new (used) convertible.
After scrubbing up in the bathroom and acquiring new minty breath, I thought about how good I felt. Good begets good; all the factors seemed to be playing in my favor, from the sun and warmth to tolerable pain and the anticipation of wind in my hair (uh, my stubbly, post-chemo hair). I was conspiring to have a very good day.
My apartment was in a bit of a shambles because I’ve been so sore that I can’t clean it properly, so I indulged in a call to a cleaning service and, bang, they were at my door by 10. I donned my camo cargo shorts and flip flops, tossed on a T-shirt, found my shades, pulled the car top back, and was soon cruising Queens Boulevard.
I didn’t know where I was going, and it didn’t matter. I searched my brain for just about any chore that required driving and then I did it. First stop, car wash, to get the pollen and bird sign off my ‘98 Beamer. Then to the pharmacy—the one in the next neighborhood over. I picked up the pain meds, which I didn’t need much of, returning the pharmacist’s flirty smile (did she like men in pain?). Then to the supermarket, but not the one across the street from my house, the one that requires significant $3.50-a-gallon gas expenditure… You get the picture.
Later in the day, I was off to see a singer-songwriter friend of mine perform on the Lower East Side. I gave the cleaning lady a ride to the subway (top down, of course), then cruised SoHo and found a perfect, free parking spot (this is pure gold in NYC) and headed into the show. She played a great set and the free vodka drinks helped me loosen up. I gave myself plenty of time to get back into driving shape, then made my way along into the mild spring night.
And took the long way home, through the most bustling streets in my glorious city.
It was a great day. Almost perfect. I almost forgot about cancer.
Comments (3)
your blog has great curative powers — I loved the continuous reminder of the simple wonderful things in life that we tend to overlook - thanks for helping my day “realign” from immersion in tactical day-to-day to a bird’s eye view of how beautiful life really is…thnx Jason :-)
tenacity - Ilove it!! yes , your definitely on the right track, stick to it.
I have very much related to all that Jason has gone through. I am a double stem cell transplant survivor in seattle Washington. My second was 2 years ago in May. My numbers are starting to go up again unfortunately, so I will begin a new phase in my battle with the myloma. All of Jasons experiences were similar to mine. And, I did play my guitar while in the hospital and a lot during my recovery. And yes, there are many blessings in the midst of what happened with me. I wish all of you who are battling cancer to keep the faith and keep walking. Mike