The trip to my sister's in North Carolina was not without event. Four hours into the six+ hour drive my air conditioner died. I was later to learn that the compressor was shot - seems to be a chronic Volvo problem. It happened to my other Volvo at about the same mileage and everyone I know who has one smiles and acknowledges the obvious -- what can the Swedish possibly know about air conditioning? In my not so humble opinion this is an area where Ford just might be able to help them out. But I digress...
I spent the weekend rethinking my life priorities, drinking martinis with Pat and Len, going to class (teaching online does have its advantages), shopping consignment shops with my sister, floating in the pool, eating well and having some great conversation.
We all talked about my chemo decision and though cautious not to sway me either way, Len seemed to concur with my decision. (Though I suspect he would have concurred with the opposite decision as well). He made a number of good points, and one in particular that I have continued to ponder.
I have been concerned about the possible long term effects of radiation and hormone therapy. After all, I'd prefer not be a little old lady with all sorts of issues that make life even more difficult than the aging process might be. He advised me that I should worry less about what will havppen in 30 years and more about insuring that I have another good, strong, healthy 10. After all, if quality of life is what I am after, there may be some inevitable decline in function as I age anyway. If I make decisions for my old age but don't get a chance to get there, were they the correct decisions?
Good point. And a frightening point. I had never thought about it in quite this way. If I were to have 10 healthy years what would I want them to look like? For some reason I've always thought I had plenty of time to get it together. A self admitted late bloomer, it appears I have been asleep at the wheel; adrift at sea without a rudder. There has been so much I've wanted to really accomplish and so little that I truly have because I figured there was always time.
For most of my life I have been floating from port to port trying to find a way to earn a living while the life I wanted to make for myself remained a vision somewhere out on the horizon that I could occasionally see through a port hole. I'd get there, eventually, I hoped.
Well, that approach now seems to be a load of crap. I had better set sail towards that shoreline quickly. If I'm blessed I'll get there with years to enjoy myself.
And if God has other plans for me, when I leave I would prefer to be heading towards what I see through that port hole as opposed to just thinking about it. My challenge will be that I am a dreamer, not a doer.
I love to have ideas - I love to consider their potential - and then I love to hand them off to someone else to make them happen because by that time I've already thought of something else.
I think I need to hire staff to make my dreams come true! :-).
Oh -- there was one other 'event ' over the 4th that was somewhat untimely and ironic. On a cool Monday morning while we were all enjoying our coffee outside, the phone rang. Patty got up to answer it and when she returned she sat down and said, "What the heck. That was the radiologist. They want me to come back in on Friday for a follow-up mammogram because they'd like to re-examine an area on the right breast.
Unfreaking believeable.
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