Adjusting

My cousin Debbie is a treasure.  We were born just a couple of weeks apart, lived in the same town and went to the same school for most of our elementary days.  Here you see us sharing the same playpen.  When we were little, we’d have great fun at our Grandma Farner’s house when the clan was gathered together.  When we weren’t sampling Grandma’s talcum powder in the upstairs bathroom, we’d investigate her drawers, closets and attics for interesting stuff.  No one seemed to mind our snooping.  The one thing that generally yielded a shout up the stairwell to “KNOCK IT OFF!!” was when we practiced our “tap dancing” on the linoleum floor covering in Grandma’s front bedroom which sat above the living room.  Our Sunday patent leather maryjanes made such a lovely sound on that hard linoleum, but there is no accounting for taste, is there?

Just before my tenth birthday, my family moved away from our hometown and only returned for vacations in the summer.  I didn’t see Debbie as much after that and when we did, my awkward shyness held me back from seeking her out. (Yes, I was shy!)

It’s only been in recent years and through the wonders of Facebook that we’ve picked up where we started.  As I get to know her again, as a grown-up, I am amazed at how much we have in common.  Lately we’ve both been dealing with our husbands’ health and she’s been sending weekly letters to friends and family sharing her thoughts and experiences as she and her husband Bill travel an uncertain road.  She writes so well that I asked her if I could share her words with you. (I think she should begin her own blog.)

So, without further ado, let me introduce you to my wonderful cousin, Debra Farner Hughes:

We all make adjustments all the time. We put a sweater on, then take it off, turn the radio up then down, open the window, then shut it. We switch channels, we turn the mirrors on the car, move the seat, all to fit our requirements. We do things without even thinking to make adjustments. 

 

In the past 3 months, we have made lots of adjustments. Some of the time, they were ones that made us very happy, some not so much, but all were necessary. 

 

Bill and I never had a set of “jobs” we do at home, there are no tasks either of us would not do. Well, I would rather not clean the cat boxes but I have done it when I had to. He has also written a check or two to pay a bill, but other than those things, jobs were just that, something someone needs to get done. He just as easily would vacuum or do the dishes as I would. Mowing the lawn is a favorite of mine and he never made me feel like it was his job. 

 

But lately, we have had to make adjustments. This time of year we always have lot of branches and twigs that need to be broken into kindling for the wood burning stove that makes our family room a cozy place to be. We have always loved autumn with the changing colors that surround us and we never looked at the kindling as a chore.

 

Bill loves music so he had always routinely added one of his favorite cd’s to our tasks, making it a much more pleasurable experience, no matter what it was. Ever since the first of July, our tasks, no matter what they were, driving in the car to chemo or doctors, cleaning the house, walking the cats (yes, he walks the cats) there has been no music. I miss it. He only plays music when he is happy. I learned to live with the quietness in the car, in the house, in the yard. I adjusted, it was something that was taken from us when cancer came to stay. Evil cancer, evil, evil cancer. 

 

So Saturday when we went to do our yearly breaking of the branches, Bill only was able to sit on a bench break a few, but I was thrilled he was with me trying his best. I was not surprised when he was tired and needed to retire, leaving me with a huge mound of branches to handle alone. I looked at the pile and thought how he must have felt about leaving me to do it myself, but I refused to give in to my fatigue so I lived up to his funny nickname he gave me, Little Mighty. That day, I produced 4 barrels of kindling. I am learning to do things alone. It is not how I want it to be but I am adjusting.

 

Just when I start getting used to the new normal, he does it again. He started singing! He put music on and started to sing, powerfully sing and it is from his soul. If you never really heard him sing, you have missed a great set of vocals. His gruffly voice is something that you would not expect to produce such a beautiful sound, but it does, and when he feels the emotion the song is meant for, now that is amazing. So he spent part of today putting together a cd that he could sing his heart out to when we had yet another adjustment. He is currently sitting in the infusion center and getting 2 units of blood, something he has not had to do before. I just glanced at him, reading his book on a high school football team and listening to a soccer game simultaneously, so Bill. 

 

He has learned to live with cancer. He has learned to walk outside with his chemo pump on and not feel like he has to sit indoors for the 48 hours it takes to administer the drugs that are going to let him live with this. He has learned to smile again and to talk to people. He played 9 holes of golf, came home exhausted but oh so happy. He has adjusted to being a cancer patient, but it is not who he is anymore. He is Bill, who happens to have cancer but has chosen to live again. And now, He sings, thank you God for letting him sing and letting me see him again.

I told you she could write!  Must be in the genes; something else I’m so very glad we share!  Love you cuz.