I remember being in my 9th grade English class with Mrs. Bickell and before we read Romeo and Juliet, there was a survey about yourself. You know, questions trying to engage with Shakespeare and 17th century English culture. One of the this or that questions was: are you spontaneous or planned? As a 14 year-old, I chose spontaneous. Duh. I’m spontaneously not going anywhere because I am 14, don’t have a drivers license and no job. Clearly that was the right answer. Even now, as a 40-year-old, I find myself surprised to hear when someone comments I normally have things or events planned out. Who me? But I do. With three kids, a couple part-time jobs, a husband who works various nights, being planned out is essential. There is nothing spontaneous about me. Well, maybe spontaneous for a good laugh or hug. So in my calendar, I put my chemotherapy schedule. Every two weeks on Thursday. Last Thursday, before my 3rd treatment, I was told having to postpone treatment a week because of low platelets or other issue with bloodwork was almost a guarantee. My nurse practitioner said it would be more of a miracle not to have to delay a treatment. Umm, what. Why is this not in the what to expect when you have cancer booklet? (There is none, btw. Ok, lots of information, mostly about the side effects, but not this kind of information). Hearing this threw me for a loop. Hard to plan a little vacation to Michigan if I have treatment. Hard to pick-up extra hours at the gym if I’m going into treatment or still attached to my 46 hour take-home chemo. Hard to plan an in-town getaway from a friend when I’m not sure when I will have chemotherapy. I felt frustrated. And as I am learning about my emotions, what is the root of my emotion? Yes, frustration. But pull back the layer. Feeling helpless. Disappointment. Anger. Guilt. Cancer is a great teacher. A teacher of patience, humility, grace, flexibility and so much more. I am only handling my cancer the best way I know how. I’m not special or extra strong. I am simply doing the next best thing. And the next best thing continues to be a mental flex on my perception of my life. Controlling how I respond to each situation and continuing to navigate my disappointment and my frustration is hard. The thought that I have only completed 3 out of 9 treatments seems daunting. Its that analogy of climbing a mountain and being almost midway and looking up to the peak and realizing you have so much more to go. Rather, I need to look at where I started and what I have accomplished. And for me, that is hard. So this week I have been working to change the narrative in my head: I believe good things are going to happen to me. I get scanned on July 1 to check the progress of my tumor and I believe I’m going to see a shrinking tumor. Good things. So that is where we are for now. Continuing to work to be positive in this season of life and letting that be my focus.