Skip to main content

Lemonade out of lemons???

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.




Have you ever made lemonade from fresh lemons? I haven't but I've got to believe it's a lot of work. I mean first you have to buy a LOT of lemons. One recipe I found said that you'd need five pounds at an average cost of $2/lb means your lemons would set you back $10. I'm not a mathematician, as my friends, family and coworkers can attest, so I used a calculator so you can trust my math. And then you'll need 2 cups of sugar - at a cost of about $1.70 for 32 oz. that equates to (again, I used a calculator so you can trust my math) 85 cents for your pitcher of lemonade. So, for your pitcher of lemonade it would cost $10.85 (again,  the calculator was used). According to my research and the recipes I read, it will take approximately 15 minutes to make your pitcher, because you have to boil the water with the sugar, squeeze the lemons, remove the seeds, stir and I'm guessing sweat and swear at why the hell you're making fresh lemonade when for less than $2 and little effort you could be making it from fresh/frozen concentrate, and then finally chill the damn lemonade before you can drink it. And it better taste really good or ... or ... or ... {insert something really awful here}

So, I don't get the how turning lemons into lemonade is a good. I know that Dale Carnegie used the metaphor and many use it to this day. It seems arcane. Though, according to Wikipedia: "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade is a proverbial phrase used to encourage optimism and a positive can-do attitude in the face of adversity or misfortune. Lemons suggest sourness or difficulty in life; making lemonade is turning them into something positive or desirable" So according to that simple interpretation, this Pollyanna should be all over the phrase. I should be the poster child for lemonade. I should be the very picture of lemonade in your mind. I shouldn't be dissecting the phrase and running a cost or time analysis that any economist would admire. (Okay that might be a stretch for simply using Google search and a calculator, but I'm giving myself cred for going the extra mile to assure my readers have all the facts, no fake news here!)

Here's the rub, I thought having MS WAS my lemon. Now, I've been given a whole huge new gigantic bag of lemons- breast cancer. Geez, right? I mean I should be hurling my lemons and being as sour and puckered as a lemon tastes, before you add the 2 cups of sugar. I should be scowling, swearing (I do, do my fair share actually) and bitter. Want to know the truth, the Scarlett O'Hare turnip clenching, fist raised to the sky "As God is my witness" truth? I'm not bitter. Because, though it is indeed a bitter pill to swallow and chemo is not for the weak, cancer (unlike MS) is curable. Mic drop! Bam! Yes! It's curable so I refuse to get all sour. After all, my pitcher or glass are half-full.

It doesn't mean I don't get sad at times, I am human. And God and I have had some interesting conversations lately. I get sad because the chemo can absolutely wipe me out for a couple days. I slept most of Sunday and a good part of Monday and Tuesday this past week. That's 3 days where I could have been out Pollyanna-ing the heck out of this breast cancer and making all I encounter think "Hey what's the bald woman in the wheelchair all smiling and happy about?". Instead, I was at home on the couch or in bed resting up for my Wednesday and Thursday WW Workshops. I was warned about the chemo fatigue and thought I'd be alright since I've experienced MS fatigue for years, but it has me horizontal. 

My lemonade is sweet because I have the luxury of being able to take those days to rest with the support of many including a patient hubby, family and friends and understanding coworkers. And my lemonade is sweet because I didn't have to make it from scratch - God gave me my disposition knowing I'd have sour times ahead, he armed me from birth to make good out of bad and to find the pitcher or glass is always half full.




Comments

  1. Inspired! Yes, Carl describes the chemo fatigue as being a very sick 80-90 year old...just can’t get up. He went into it “healthy” and would be down at least 3 days. You are as Always Inspiring and a Beautiful Light to us all!��

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

Ch ... Ch ... Chemo

I was ready. I was prepared. The potential side-effect list was long and one I'd had some familiarity when John went through his treatment.  So I gathered my arsenal. I had my compazine, zofran and antivan. I had my ginger chewables and chicken noodle soup. I was armed and potentially dangerous. So, chemo day with the toxic chemo cocktail starting to do it's job, I envisioned it as either PacMan, eating away at the cancer cells or a Chia Pet, allowing my good cells to thrive. With these visions, (that aren't quite Christmas Eve sugar plums dancing) and tired from the chemo, I went to bed early. Friday, under the watchful eye of my caregiving hubby, I slept most of the day away. Not really hungry but not nauseous either. I spent the majority of the day horizontal on the couch listening to my book on Audible (despite the sleep timer, I probably missed 1/3 of what I 'read'), dozing, answering calls and texts, and snacking.  Perhaps the highlight of the ...

The "I'll Nevers" of growing older

  Years ago as a freelance writer, I submitted an essay entitled "The I'll Nevers of Parenting". It was a list, mostly, of things I had said prior to having children and the crow I was then eating because of the stupidity of the claims. You know little pearls of 'wisdom' that only someone who hasn't experienced the joys of  parenting could utter, like: I will never yell at my child in public or I will never let my child eat dinner in front of the television or my children will never stay up past 9 pm. I yelled at my children (usually when we were both tired and totally irrational!) in public. One time, as we were in the drop off lane at school with a long line of cars behind us, the boys hoped out of the car but Delaney was insisting on something that for the life of me I cannot recall and I was insisting that she get out of the van. We crept along, van door still open, until I got to the end of the line and yelled at the top of my voice, "Delaney get the...

Values - pass it on.

If you have read my blog in the past or know me at all, you know that sports in general and football in particular are not one of my favorite things to watch. Unless of course, one of my sons is playing - then get out of my way as I cheer them on! It is with a lot of frustration that I have seen more televised football games in recent weeks than there are hairs on my head. Okay that might be a slight exaggeration - but only slight . So if you're like me, you have seen the plethora of commercials from the Foundation for a Better Life. They are wonderful, heartfelt little life snippets - and they all end with the tag line, "Values, pass it on." Some of the most memorable are: The girl with Downs syndrome that is crowned prom queen. The skater 'dude' that is seen running through the alleys and streets with a woman's purse in his hands until he gets to the city bus where he gives the purse to a woman that is disembarking. He says, "You left this on the b...