"It's Wonderful - and Terrible"

(Writers Note: Angela usually starts these, but when I wake up at 3:30 a.m. with a post on my mind, I guess it's my turn.  ds)

People ask me "How's it going, or what's it like" almost every day.  Up until this week, my response was whatever came to mind.  I now have a new standard response: "It's wonderful...and terrible."

The terrible part is pretty easy to figure out, I suppose.  Nobody gets a diagnosis like this and thinks, "Whoa, bummer."  It takes weeks (maybe more for some) to get through the stages of grieving - usually associated with a passing, but certainly happened to me with this.  It's terrible.

It's also terrible to look TOO far ahead and imagine those you love without you.

Chemo and related treatments?  Maybe not terrible...certainly not fun.

But...WONDERFUL?

Oh, my yes, this HAS been wonderful in so many, many ways.

As we were traveling to Mattoon yesterday for Lauryn's birthday party, I turned to Kathy and said "You know, everything in my life is amplified now.  It's brighter, better, sweeter and more precious."

I see things in a completely new way.  I appreciate the fact that I'm still able to work and throw myself even MORE fully into my teaching.  I appreciate the humanity of people and will talk to complete strangers (SO "not me!").  I cherish in new and more special ways every single moment with friends and family...not in the desperate way of the last several weeks, but in a brighter, happier, in-the-moment way.

My life has been AMPLIFIED....WONDERFUL!

I watch in wonder as my beautiful, precious bride grows and becomes stronger every day.  We're learning the "new normal" together with fewer and fewer tears.

I marvel at my daughter's selflessness and determination, her toughness and her tenderness.  I hear the growth in my son every time we talk and Skype.  We have lost the need of the term "in-law" in our family: there are only sons and daughters, sisters and brothers.  My brothers John and Mark are no less brothers to me than my birth brother Bruce.  My sisters Jacqui and Lynda stand right there with my precious Silvia.  John is my son, Meghan my daughter.  WONDERFUL.

With my grandchildren (especially Kate) EVERY cuddle, tickle, kiss, game and chase is happier, more sweet and more important.  Every song with Claire, every laugh with Lauryn, every Skype with Luca and every "blown" kiss with Gianna gets infused directly into my heart and memory where it grows in value immediately.  I didn't think it was possible!  I told Kate this morning as we were cuddling in bed that I was like a "nice Grinch," because whenever I was with them they made my heart grow 13 times its normal size!  WONDERFUL.

At work yesterday, I stopped by the main office to drop off some paperwork.  My co-worker, Michelle, a cancer fighter herself, has turned into a close, compassionate, wonderful friend.  There were four students - just four of the 10 or so who are usually up at my office as my "other" family - with me.  Mic (Michelle) asked if they needed help, they answered, "We're his posse!"  Mic said, "they LOVE you, Dave."  They answered in unison and sincerely "WE DO!"  WONDERFUL.

My FORMER students?  On any given day, especially chemo days, I can expect an avalanche of phone messages, texts, e-mails and Facebook messages.  Led by people like Brent, DJ and Duff, they don't let my feet or spirits hit the ground.  WONDERFUL.

Friends?  Mine are beyond compare.  Kathy and I were already close with good friends like Craig and Carole, Scott and Dawn (my O.R. angel) and Rich and Joy.   Since diagnosis?  Amplified, brighter, more personal, more precious.  WONDERFUL.

Our church family has been there every single day with every single step.  We are aware of and cherish every single prayer.  So many angels bringing support, the Word - and FOOD!  WONDERFUL!

God is amplifying every moment, every second...making it brighter, clearer, tastier, more valuable.  It makes me wonder what it will be like when we're with HIM if it can be this good here. 

Dear Mouse, Thursday during chemo, I flashed back to when you were a little girl and had all those terrible ear infections.  We'd give you your medicine, and snuggle with you on your bed.  It always seemed like the only times we could really get extended cuddles with you were at book/bed/sick times.  In a wierd way, it sort of made me look forward to sick times.  I wonder if that's why I look forward to Thursdays, now.  ;-)  Love ALWAYS, Daddy