Benched..By Cancer

Today Living Social is offering discounted paddle boarding in Atlantic City, further research also showed me discounted Cirque tickets for the same weekend.  I saw the email, did the math and immediately started pounding out an email to my favorite adventure buddy. 

We have talked all spring about a new paddle boarding adventure.  In fact, we talked about going in June and never went.  (I think it had something to do with the 2 weeks in the hospital where they yanked out half of my guts) 

In my head, it is perfect, we play hooky from work, cruise to Atlantic city and go paddle boarding in the late morning, then we head back to our swanky hotel room and get ready for the Cirque show after which we grab a few drinks, get silly wasted and sleep in till almost noon before heading back,  slightly foggy and dehydrated,  to our families.  It sounds like the perfect little mom-adventure.  

Then, I look at my calendar to make certain we have the weekend free, which it is.  In fact, all of our August weekends are free, which is unsettling alone since I normally have May till September fully booked to within a few hours by mid-April.

I am scheduled to have my second chemo treatment that Monday, which means I have to have my port unplugged on Tuesday and that I need to get my shot of xxx on Thursday.

 I wonder if I will be up for paddle boarding on Saturday.  I wonder if I will even be able to enjoy a salt rimmed drink with a paper umbrella that evening.   I wonder if my swanky dinner will taste like a mouse burger.  I wonder if my immune system will be strong enough to handle what I can only assume is one of the germiest places on the planet.  I mean, I try not to touch doors or walls or anything that is not attached to my body on a good trip to Atlantic City. 

I want to say F***-it and to order the tickets, I want desperately to hit send on my half written email filled with excitement, smiling emoticons and the promise of a stress free escape from reality with a friend. Instead, I click the red X and when Outlook asks me if I want to save the draft, I say no.

I feel sad and deflated.  This is my season.  Summer is my Superbowl and I have been benched. Perhaps if I knew that I would be sick on day 4, 5 & 6 and that I would have no immunity on day 11, but apparently cancer does not come with a playbook.  This is made worse by the looming week and a half I have until I begin my first treatment.  I don’t know what to expect so I am still free to dream.  I am still free to imagine myself paddle boarding between chemo treatments.  I am still free to imagine myself not having to use even 1 more vacation day on anything other than vacation because I just don’t know.  I am free to dream but still not allowed on the playing field.