Same Life Different Day

Yesterday, after posting about my medical tests, I ran some errands, including stopping at the library. On my way out, I passed a little boy wearing a tee shirt that read:

Same Shirt
Different Day

I immediately realized I needed a shirt that reads:

Same Life
Different Day

I am feeling much better today about the medical news. I am penning a quick note to my regular oncologist, containing questions I want answered before I see him in October. These never occurred to me yesterday. I was in shock as we barreled through the results.

I also realized this morning what bugged me the most about the oncologist yesterday. He didn't listen. I told that to Warren this morning and he said "April, I was almost ready to say 'hey, would you shut up and listen to what my wife is saying?' but I didn't know if you would appreciate that."

Listening is a skill I put at the top of the list when it comes to qualities I want to see in my doctors. The only reason my cancer was discovered in the first place was because my amazing, truly wonderful personal physician Pat is a great listener (she's great at other things too, including interpreting lab results). As I talked about a laundry list of nagging medical issues, she frowned and said "you shouldn't be feeling this way. Let's find out what's going on."

I have often thought back to that moment. It would have been so easy for Pat to say "April, you're on the far side of 48, you are a single mom, you just came through a long divorce, you have a busy law practice, and you're very active in the community. You need to lose some weight and get some more exercise. Try that and come back and see me in six months."

Instead, Pat listened. She listened carefully and then went to work figuring out why I was feeling so lousy.

Pat's listening is why I am still alive today.

Yesterday's post also brought two immediate responses that reminded me again of the power of community, both here in Delaware and out there in Blogville. My friend Linda was along with me when I went to Oncology that very first time. She is the one who reached over and held my hand when Tim asked me "how much did your doctor discuss with you?" as he prepared to break the diagnosis to me.

After reading my blog yesterday, Linda emailed:

I have a card here that says "Take what you can use and let the rest go by." It has a kitty smelling the blossom of a flower....that pretty much says it...whatever I have that you can use...you may have.....sending you both strength to deal with this news....love Linda

Linda is a very dear friend and the type of person who would give away whatever she had if it helped someone else. She has always been there for me.

The other immediate response was from Sharon, my friend over at Musings of a Midlife Mom, who wrote:

Crap. Not what I wanted to hear either. But, my prayer chain has started and I have confidence that you have many, many more years of good living left. Sending lots of hugs and kisses. You will be okay. Period.

Thank you, Sharon!

My greatest asset when I immigrated to Cancerland was the support of family, friends, and even strangers. Whether it was delivering a meal, sending me a note, or adding me to a prayer chain, they let me know continually that I had their collective strength backing me.

Linda's and Sharon's notes, along with Warren's presence and my baby brother Mark's phone call last night (perfect timing, Mark!), remind me that no matter what I may be going through, I have that strength again every step of the way.

I was full of gratitude then and am even more grateful today.

The title of this blog is "Small Moments of Great Reward." That comes from a note Warren sent me very early on in our relationship. I will someday write about that note, but that one line is all I need to put down now: "I always try to make even the smallest moment of great reward." As I finish this post, I can hear and smell the rain, which my gardens needed. The world is fresh again and I am renewed.

Same Life
Different Day

What a great one.