|The Cradle Robber and her younger man.|
THE LULU CHRONICLES
This week was my husband, Gary’s, 61st birthday. I sighed a big relief. You see, I’m three-months older than him, so for those three months, he is married to an older woman. I feel so vulnerable during that time as I imagine younger chicks; you know 59-year-olds, flirting with my man. During those three long months, our so-called friends call me 'cradle robber' and many other horrible names. It’s a nightmare.
But, now he’s as old as I am, so all is well… I mean that figuratively and literally. All is well in our household. Gary’s last PET scan was clean. No detected cancer, so since March we’ve been living the high life. No cancer worries just soaking up life. It’s our new normal. We swing from PET scan to PET scan like monkeys on a … well … monkey bar. Our whole world is reduced down to those few months in between. If the scan is clean, we make plans and fill the days with things that give us joy—like birthday celebrations, and grandkids running around the yard, and sitting on the back porch late at night listening to the bullfrog chorus.
… until about a week before the next PET scan. Then things get a little squirrely. Gary’s mood shifts a tad and my insides start contracting like someone has placed a blood pressure cup around my gut and has started slowly squeezing that little bulb, tightening… tightening… tightening.
You see PET scans can detect cancer only if it has grown into a million cells or more. So, you can get a ‘clean’ scan, but there is always that possibility that the cancer is still lurking around in Gary’s body under Harry Potter’s invisible cloak. That’s happened twice now. One, resulting in another surgery to remove the cancer and the other resulting in another round of radiation… also our new normal.
Next Friday is our next scan. I can’t breathe and Gary is chewing nails and driving his John Deere around the yard in warp-speed mowing down everything in his path. We’re a hoot to be around.
Prayers would be appreciated. God is standing by as always. And me and the Hubs? In between our squirrely-ness we’re holding hands more; we view these long summer days as ones of hope; And, I’m once again thankful we’re the same age. One hurdle down. One more to go.