When the future is fuzzy.

Life is messy!

2023 — well on its way and I hadn’t posted anything on my blog. I’d looked at plenty of blogs, read the New Year’s resolutions of bloggers and their selections for WOTY. Yet, for my own blog, I kept coming up short. I’d even thought of discontinuing my blog, or at the very least, completely redoing it. I guess that happens when the future seems fuzzy.

From a personal perspective, I’m fine. My health is good and I still have aspirations of living a very long, active life. But I’m not the focus right now. I look up from my computer to see my husband stroll by, my husband who is living with metastatic prostate cancer. Actually, we’re both living with it. It’s a joint effort and it colors our world. It impacts the choices we make on both a daily and long-term basis. CANCER is often the word of choice as we weigh many of our life decisions. All of this makes the future look a bit fuzzy.

Does this sound as if I’m complaining. Maybe just a bit. But overall, I think we’re handling ourselves pretty well. Kudos first to husband Mike. He’s had so many things thrown at him. Pre-cancer diagnosis, he had four joint replacements — both knees and both shoulders. Even so, he still plays a mean game of golf, just not a full 18. He also has a-fib (short for atrial fibrillation) which he’s had for several years. Ironically, his heart medication in some ways help to counteract some of the bad side effects of the cancer medication. Talk about a double-edged sword.

Life is a little off-kilter but still good.

And of course there’s the elephant in the room. The Big “C.” There is no cure for this curse. Prostate cancer that has spread to the bones cannot be cured but it can be managed — we hope for a very long time. That remains to be seen. Hormone therapy is the drug of choice currently among several options. Sometimes they work; sometimes they don’t. We go through the Zytiga’s , Xgeva, Xofigo. You name it, we’ve got it.

That is life for our family right now — the two of us as well as our two grown daughters. Mike often quips to people, “If you have to go through something like this, surround yourself with a bunch of good, strong women. They’ll help you manage.” We try. But he’s doing a lot of it on his own. With all he’s dealing with, I marvel at his positive, accepting attitude. He has his moments but for the most part he keeps moving forward. Case in point, he’s a little unsteady on his feet right now so he’s acquired a set of stylish canes.

What lies between now and then I know not. But one thing I know for certain: every day is a gift. That’s sort of our life motto right now along with the message on tee shirts Mike had made for the whole family.

If this cancer thing has taught me anything, it’s that today is all we know we have. We have to make the most of it. Never miss the chance to tell someone you love them. Savor the time instead of complaining about it. Our Christmas was joyous with family gathered around with love and laughter. Except for my tears when I opened a beautiful fuzzy blanket that Mike gave me.

But I’m not waiting for later to cuddle up with it. It’s fuzzy, warm and he’s here. We plan our days together and independently. We have our routines, together and apart. And yes, I am trying to resume blogging. It’s surprising. Once I sit down to write, it’s satisfying. I feel productive, even energized. So I’m going to keep doing it. Maybe I’ll redo the blog; maybe I won’t. I’ll not let perfect by the enemy of good. Sometimes good is just good enough.

I’m reading a book by Matthew Kelley, “Life Is Messy.” His message is helpful and relevant. “The mess of life is both inevitable and unexpected. Your life can be turned upside down in one small minute. But it’s a mistake to focus on the negative. It is often in the middle of nowhere that we find ourselves and come to know ourselves in new and brilliant ways.”

Mike, too, is doing his share of reading, specifically “Strength for the Cancer Journey” by Deborah Barr. It’s a 30-day journaling guide with actual accounts and prayers by many others living with cancer. It is a stark reminder that we are not alone in this journey. I’m guessing that cancer, in whatever form, touches just about every family.

So we press forward. Enjoying the day. Planning a future. Yes, we are. I even booked a five-day cruise for November (trip insurance definitely included). It’s the TCM Classic Film Cruise. If his energy is low, we can just spend five days watching classic films.

Cancer changes things, it can make the future look fuzzy, but it needn’t change us. We laugh, we love, we are together — 51 years and counting.

Will I redo my blog? Not sure, but I will keep writing