Missing the Normal

Maybe one of my least favorite things about Chemo day is that I cannot have coffee until I have started the infusion. This probably sounds funny to you, but coffee is one of those things that brings simple pleasure to me. Drinking it while I get ready in the morning, the warmth of the mug… the smell of it brewing in my house.

 When I lived in Honduras coffee was the necessary part of our morning. We did not have a coffee maker and we brewed by pouring hot water over the coffee beans into a large plastic pitcher. The coffee never stayed in the pitcher long enough before the pitcher would melt, we always had our cups ready on hand. How funny this is to me today and how normal is was for us then.

The coffee in Honduras is something that I have yet to find an equal to in the States. But a month ago a dear friend from the town where we lived sent me two bags of the finest. This morning those beans sit on my shelf, calling my name but alas I will wait.

If you remember last time the nurse had trouble sticking my vein, despite the copious amounts of water I had drank. Unfortunately coffee, with the caffeine does not help that situation, so I will have to wait until I get settled for infusion.

My mom is currently getting ready and I am laying in bed on my heating pad. (my new favorite thing). Just last night I picked up my mom and she got to see me with my nearly bald head for the first time. We will head to breakfast this morning and then to the hospital. Hoping today goes a bit faster than it did last time…

My thoughts and emotions today are quite scattered. Chemo day feels a bit surreal almost. Despite my scars and bald head it is still difficult to wrap my head around all of this.

We do not have plans for this weekend but are looking forward to the warm weather Denver is planning. Hoping for some time in the sun, and vitamin d.

If I am honest I am just ready to get today over with. I hate saying that, never wanting to wish time away but that is how I feel. Days like today make me long for the normalcy (what I thought was) that existed before cancer came in. Makes me wish I were planning adventurous trips, that I could go out on a date, go skiing or meet friends for happy hour. Simply doing life as though I did not have this large narrative of cancer in the middle of it.

Do me a favor and find something that seems utterly normal today, and be grateful for it?

Can you rejoice in the mundane.

Nothing about my day seems normal to me, and not drinking coffee first thing in the morning is just the very start of that “not normal”.

I must go get ready, although that looks more like just putting on makeup these days. The “getting ready” part of my day is so minimalist without having to do my hair.

May you find yourself today in the mundane rejoicing and grateful. I long for that so many days as I am often left wishing these days to pass quickly.

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