No Complaints

For once I have absolutely no complaints with my life.

We strategically delayed chemo for a week so I wouldn’t be a zombie this weekend and I finished my last dose of radiation early Friday morning because I wanted to be walking relatively pain free.

You do a lot of walking at a college graduation. And yesterday my son, Paul, graduated from the University of Delaware. With honors.

So much of my son and my daughter’s young lives have been filled with concern over their parents’ health. But yesterday, it was Paul’s day. And I was so thrilled to be there. Literally. Maybe all those side effects have been worth it.

Not just to see Paul in a silly hat and gown and to hug this kid who is now considerably larger than me. But to have seen the videos he wrote, produced and starred in. His performances in the university’s orchestra. His writing for the satirical newspaper he created. Even to watch him cook himself a healthy meal. (I mean he recently asked me to get kale at the grocery store. I was sure he was going to say ice cream.) 
I am even pleased the car that I very reluctantly let him take to school in his sophomore year is still looking pretty good, except for some extra junk in the back seat. (The first five conversations about him taking the car to school began with me declaring, “Absolutely not!”)
In this blog I highlight all the discomfort, pain and side effects of my cancer and treatment. And many days, weeks, months they dominate my life. They also make me forget the reason that I am doing the treatment: To be with my family.

I was able to fly to Berkeley for my daughter’s graduation (and her surprise gift to me of a ride on a Segway) two years ago. I was able to help — or watch — her move into a Brooklyn apartment this spring. I was there for my wife when she had her terrible accident and helped nurse her back to the Energizer Bunny we had known. Even lesser moments are worth it, like this past Mother’s Day when we threw her a series of surprises that lasted the entire day. 
There are more good moments coming. There are the two Yankee games my daughter has paid for this summer, and I am determined to spend some time at a horse track.
There’s a long car ride planned to see family, there are the friends who have a house in the Rockaways, and a Jersey Shore beach house waiting for me this summer.
So life goes on, good and bad. Sometimes you have to be sure to celebrate the good.

This is the latest installment in the blog Closing in on -30- about my doctor’s pronouncement that I have about two years to live.