Lessons learned - let go of the "old normal", be gentle in transition, and be excited about and embrace the "new normal"

I've spent a lot of time learning this lesson, because I spent a lot of time grieving the loss of "the way I was" with longing and self-pity. I've only recently begun to celebrate "the way I am." Here's a few things I have learned:

There is a type of death that comes from trying to hold on to the past. When my expectations were in line with "the way it was" rather than "the way it is" then I had no joy in what was right in front of me. I missed out on the blessings of the moment and exchanged them for the experience of disappointment and discouragement. The death that comes from trying to hold on to the past is the diminshment of the present and amounts to the refusal to accept change. Trust me, I have seen myself do this again and again. "why can't I...I used to...I should be able to...."

During transition times of sudden upheaval and rapid change, there is such a grieving and shock to our reality that everything is flying about and any sense of "normal" just flies out the window. I think during these times, "embracing the new normal" is just not realisitic... The best I learned I could do was to just be gentle with myself during the ordeal of cancer treatment. Old normal and new normal were just not helpful concepts. Hanging on was about as far as I could go. Nothing was making much sense. At best, being as gentle as possible with myself and entrusting the moment to the care of God (when I could even do that) was as big an accomplishment as I was able to manage...at least for me, it was not the time to be a storm trooper. I'm no hero, and I crawled through that storm on my belly...no, actually, I couldn't even manage that because the feeding tube got in the way...I guess I just hung on for dear life.

Last Friday, our wonderful and amazing cat of eight years, Simcha (Hebrew for "joy"), suddenly, over the course of a few hours, became unable to walk on four legs...she was dragging her rear left leg. The trip to the Vet revealed the bad news - she had a blood clot in her Aorta that moved down to her leg, and cut off all blood flow to the leg, The other back leg was deteriorating as well, and it was likely that over the next 24 hours her pain and suffering would escalate...we could give her pain meds if we felt we needed another few days, but her back leg(s) would begin to swell and become very painful...treatment options all had very poor prognosis, and would likely be accompanied by much pain and suffering, only to postpone the inevitable by a few days or weeks. There was no blood flow at all to the left, and reduced blood flow to the right. Amputation was not possible as the exact location of the clot was unknown. We made the decision to have her put to sleep...and drove home Friday from the vet in shock and grief. It was very sudden and unexpected. It has been a very difficult week as we come home to an empty house and realize how many aspects of our life involved Simcha in small and large ways. We hadn't realized how much she had become part of so many routines and activities that we lived and how much we were involved in parts of her many daily routines. Simcha reminders are everywhere.

At first (while grieving and in transition) the "new normal" was just plain unacceptable. Life would not be OK without Simcha. I opened the door after work expecting to see her slowly walking toward me, stopping three feet away to stretch out and fully wake up from her afternoon nap, then walk slowly and deliberately over to the rug in front of the sink to lie down and wait for me to walk to her to give a proper greeting and petting. At precisely 7AM, 5:12PM and 9:12PM there was no longer the "stare down" as she silently announced the arrival of feeding time. When we brushed our teeth before bed, there was no Simcha on the counter getting her evening drink of fresh water in her own special plastic drinking cup reserved for her nightly drink. When we watched TV, there was no Simcha sitting on the Ottoman across from us, looking back and forth between Kathy and I before deciding which lap she would grace with her presence to get a little evening attention. Reading the morning newspaper, there was no cat trying to squeeze under or over whatever section was being read. Her morning toys, the afternoon game played in our absence (finding the pair of tan socks I daily hid in my closet and bringing them out to leave in the living room or kitchen...to say "I won!") and her nighttime ritual with a green foam ball all were noticeably absent, etc. etc. It simply was not acceptable. We loved her too much to have her gone. Life without Simcha was not going to be OK... It was time to grieve and hold on.

Now, a week later, of course, I find I still often am thinking of her with very happy and fond and loving memories. But...I am accepting the loss...and accepting life as it is today. In fact (and I am a bit ashamed to say) I think in a few months, we will be ready to adopt a new kitty (perhaps two?) into our home. (Anyone have a lead on any Ragdoll kittens?)

Life today, post cancer treatment is so complete and exciting. It is full of new discoveries and new celebrations. It is full of small and large blessings. I am fully alive exactly as life is...not less, not more. Yes, my energy is less than it was, but I sleep better than I have slept in years! No, I can't eat spicy foods...but I had some beef stew this week, and at least the vegetables tasted really good...if I cut the beef up into teensy pieces, it's not too bad, either! Simcha is gone, but oh, how she blessed our lives in ways we will always remember. Weather permitting I am taking walks outside and that is fantastic. Better than ever. The walk is about a third as far as "the old normal" and even slower than my previous slow pace, but I am not "then", I am "now"...and today's walk is wonderful and powerful. For awhile, I was living like I was dying...I actually had this thought..."why learn anything new, I am just going to die anyway... and soon...so what's the polnt!" Now, I am thinking again about taking some classes and I am again loving to read.

To paraphrase some advice given to me by poet Ted Kooser during my cancer treatment...advice I didn't quite get at the time, but I think I get more fully now...he told me to ask myself if I were sick enough that I might die today. If the answer was no, than I need to say to myself...

"...It looks like I'm not so sick that I am going to die today, and I'm not so sick that I will likely die this week, so then, HOW AM I GOING TO LIVE?"

Wouldn't you know that the biggest change through this whole business has not been my health, but, I think, it is in my attitude...I am living more in the present, realizing I am alive today and I have all sorts of choices and opportunities. There is a Hebrew song sung at Passover..."Dayenu." The lyrics recall all that God did for the children of Israel during the Exodus to the promised land. I believe the title means "it is enough." The lyrics state over and over something like..." if He had just done this miracle (or the next, or the next...etc.) it would have been enough and we are grateful!"

Today is enough...and I am grateful. DAYENU!