Imagine Celebrating Life

The girls celebrated their six birthday this weekend. We took them out to a Japanese steakhouse and out to a cafe where they choose coconut cake to celebrate at home while watching Tinkerbell. So, they've been living on a sugar induced high for about 48 hours now and I'm not sure Grace will ever be the same. She ate less than one-quarter of a cupcake tonight saying she'd had too much frosting today. It's a miracle. Tomorrow, we're having a party with 20 of their friends at the Museum of Life and Sciences. I'm so proud of them -- we have a butterfly and caterpillar cake that I used my hidden cake decorating skills from 4-H to create; dinosaur themed decorations that were the closest thing to "real" animals that Grace could find at Party City, and glow-in-the dark trinkets that Rose choose for the goody bags. They have such vivid imaginations when you let them make their own choices. It doesn't bother them a bit that it seems like a very random collection. I can't wait. I'm more excited than they are.

Last night as I laid in bed I let my imagination go. My five year survival rate prognosis is good. The girls will be 11 years old in five years. They will really need a mother. But I wonder ... what are my chances of seeing their sweet 16 or their 30th? Realistically, I know each of us runs that risk, there are no guarantees in life.

But, I've been having a lot of headaches and last night it felt like someone was standing on my chest in hiking boots just swiveling back and forth from heel to toe. I laid there worrying about recurrence already. I'm not even done with treatments and I'm doing really well but cancer is taxing -- both physically and mentally. I find myself questioning every ache and pain and this weekend I have a lot of those. My back and neck are throbbing (so is Jeff's). My skin is beginning to feel like a marshmallow being roasted over a campfire, kind of crunchy with soft gooey stuff underneath. I'm flat out crispy in spots. Sometimes that soft, gooey stuff is my faith and hope, and it ebbs aways. I can't imagine fighting this disease without hope. Those are the darkest days. So, I try to imagine how much I'll love my daughters in another 5, 10 and 35 years. That's a much better scenario to imagine. If I can imagine it ... maybe I can make it happen.

... I have to capture something my little buddy Simon recently said. He's six too and his mother is my best friend. She sent me this email earlier this week and it made my eyes water:
"Last night the boys and I were having dinner and decided we should mention things we were thankful for that day. I was thankful for the opportunity to be at the boys' school yesterday. Stephen was thankful that we have good things to eat. Simon was thankful..."for after Thanksgiving." What? "Because then, Mom, Ann will be all done with her treatment for cancer."I hope you're right Simon ... FOR THE REST OF MY VERY LONG LIFE.