As the founder of my online support group said in a post yesterday, "We are still here!"
That alone seems reason to celebrate. When you live with metastatic cancer, you never know if a certain day will be your last. Holidays can be especially tough Who wants to imagine that this is their last birthday/family celebration/New Year's Eve?
And somehow, despite this ongoing fear, we move forward. Yes, it might be the last time to do _____________ (you fill in the blank). I, however, prefer to live in the moment. I experience the nostalgia and sorrow, that this might be the last time, and then I remember that everyone is in the same boat. None of us knows when is our last holiday, our last family visit, our last you-name-it. It's just that people with cancer feel the likelihood more acutely.
And with that, here are some selected moments from the past few days of new year's celebrations:
Shabbat dinner with friends who truly appreciated a home-cooked meal (especially the kid, who almost never gets to eat kosher chicken!)
New Year's Eve day lunch at Blueacre Seafood with friends who know the chef. Chef Kevin Davis came out for a visit several times during our meal. Meeting the chef, that's a treat!
Low-key dinner with yet more friends and a relaxing, non-competitive Scrabble game. At one minute to midnight, we realized the radio was playing Auld Lang Syne and that it was time for the ritual Happy New Year greeting and kiss.
Watching an oldie but always goodie, A Fish Called Wanda, with our regular Sunday night dates G and W, followed by Indian food for dinner. Our wonderful server let us sample several beers, and the kitchen offered us a piece of baklava still warm from the oven.
With such a sweet start to the new year, I feel refreshed, rejuvenated and ready to start 2012.