2006, Part II
Zach and I arrived in Phoenicia just after midnight last night, toting two mildly traumatized cats, a kitchen sink, and various provisions for the long weekend. In the stupor induced by general fatigue and two hours' worth of indignant meowing, I didn't focus on the fact that our arrival coincided with, by at least one measure, the midpoint of the year.
Let me just say how happy I am to have crossed that particular threshold. It is a great relief to have these last six months in the rearview mirror instead of stretching out before me.
Of course, the first half of the year had its highlights. Modern medicine and cosmic timing and good old karma all got together and gave us the gift of potential parenthood. And I remain amazed and grateful and hopeful whenever I think of the two biological marvels that might, with the help of even more modern medicine and cosmic timing and good old karma, someday call us Mom and Dad.
But by and large, the days were dominated by one medical intervention after another—preparing for them, enduring them, and recovering from them. And while I'm still recovering from this most recent surgery, and I have plenty of tests and check-ups and Herceptin treatments ahead, I no longer feel dominated by the cancer-patient mindset. And pretty soon I will no longer look the part, either.
Life is not yet back to business as usual, but it's getting there, bit by bit.
As sequels go, I am hoping that 2006, Part II is a blockbuster.
Let me just say how happy I am to have crossed that particular threshold. It is a great relief to have these last six months in the rearview mirror instead of stretching out before me.
Of course, the first half of the year had its highlights. Modern medicine and cosmic timing and good old karma all got together and gave us the gift of potential parenthood. And I remain amazed and grateful and hopeful whenever I think of the two biological marvels that might, with the help of even more modern medicine and cosmic timing and good old karma, someday call us Mom and Dad.
But by and large, the days were dominated by one medical intervention after another—preparing for them, enduring them, and recovering from them. And while I'm still recovering from this most recent surgery, and I have plenty of tests and check-ups and Herceptin treatments ahead, I no longer feel dominated by the cancer-patient mindset. And pretty soon I will no longer look the part, either.
Life is not yet back to business as usual, but it's getting there, bit by bit.
As sequels go, I am hoping that 2006, Part II is a blockbuster.
posted by Jody Rosen Knower at 7:29 PM
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