The Glass is Half-Full

I'm not prone to host pity parties. In fact, the last one I had was over five years ago when I transitioned to the wheelchair. It was a good one, if memory serves, and over forty pounds joined me where they lingered, resulting in a long miserable hang-over. But, it being a pandemic and all, I felt like hosting another pity party. I mean it's a fricking, once in a lifetime opportunity, right? Here I am, gimpy and immune compromised and shut-in for three weeks. I have my "co-workers" John, Matthew and Delaney here with me, Facetime and Zoom for human contact. But I miss my friends, family, WW coworkers and members, people at church, my pharmacist, Bill at the gas station, the owners and staff at a couple restaurants, the florist, the smart-ass cashier at Aldi, the wonderful people at the vet's office, all the healthcare workers I'd be seeing at the oncologist's/neurologist's/optometrist's/dentist's/family doc's offices and all the ...

After a recent chemo, where I was chaperoned by the always affable and charming Chris, my nurse Alicia queried “Who will be bringing you next time?” Truly, the entire oncology staff was not only charmed by Chris, they were amazed at the intricate cross stitch stocking she was working on and then awed that it was her third and final work of art.  I responded to Alicia (a new friend, really) that another friend would be bringing me and she remarked something like “you have a lot of wonderful friends”. To wit, I agree! Chris commented, “yes she does! Chemo with Kathleen!” Chemo with Kathleen. Sounds like a title to a book like "Tuesdays with Morrie" or "Me Before You", great books about friends stepping up to help a friend through illness and/or treatment. Only difference in this case would be that this sickie lives on to make more friends and to treasure the ones she has.  What I’m discovering on these chemo days, aside from all the vital medical stuff...