The Big Question

I've been pondering this for so many weeks. It's what occurs to me on the nights I mistakenly predict I don't need an Ambien, and then pay the price at 3 am: What is the purpose of this journey?

What am I supposed to learn from this? If I don't learn it, will I be doomed to repeat the whole experience? There is a point. The "things happen for a reason" expression is like a scratched record -- err, what's the equivalent for this century -- in my mind. So I peek around corners, search deeply into the eyes of my friends and family, delve into my own mind, trying to pinpoint the one answer that will lead to lasting physical and metaphysical wellness. I guess I want to be Gandhi.

It's not working. Instead, what I'm learning is how some celebrities come to be so self-absorbed. Take someone who has always sought to be the center of attention and give them the opportunity, and what you get is someone who stands at a hostess desk at a crowded restaurant and wondrously bellows, "Don't you know who I am?" That's me. Well, obviously I'm not a celebrity, but this is the most attention I've ever gotten, and I like it. Next thing you know I'll be stomping my feet, with my bald head gleaming (it doesn't really gleam, I have some fuzzy hair), and I'll blare to some poor, unsuspecting anybody, "Don't you see what I HAVE?" Selfishness cannot possibly be the ideal!

Today at McDonalds (a treat for Jonah) I initially ordered a happy meal, before realizing the toy is no longer from Monsters Versus Aliens. At that point I said, "We don't need the happy meal, just the food." So she rang it all up separately and charged us more than she would have if we'd gotten the toy. I was annoyed it didn't occur to her that I might not want to pay MORE to get the food without the toy. Once I thought about it, it became clear that I should be annoyed at myself for being so intolerant. Here is a person, gainfully employed, maybe doing the best she can, at a fast food restaurant, and I expect possibly so much more than she can do. Why? All I proved is that I do not deserve a special education certificate in this frame of mind.

On Friday, a perfect 75-degree day when I felt chemo awful, Ken took me for a drive through the pretty rural areas. Last fall I subbed in one of the rural towns, and I never enjoyed the 15-mile drive through lush farmland. Instead, I drove just as rudely as usual, hoping to pass anyone, thinking the key to happiness would be to have the 50-mph roads to myself, so I could fly at 65. With Ken, though, I slipped into the mindset of the other drivers. Why rush? The cows aren't going anywhere. It was shocking at first, and I had to fight to let go of my backseat driving instincts, but once I relaxed it was mildly exhilarating just to ride along in the car. When we got home, I didn't feel nearly as awful. Although maybe that also had something to do with the Pringles.

So far I'm a horrible cancer student. I'm selfish, intolerant, and obnoxious. I need to re-read my study guide. Even though I'm not getting any of the answers right, I know they're smack dab in front of me. I'm getting to be more convinced they're in the eyes of my family and friends. I'm not meant to absorb the attention, I'm meant to see what it is you're actually giving and learn to do it as well. And then there's got to be lots of other stuff to learn. I hope I get to that part of the course before I stomp my feet in a restaurant.