Bright moments

When cancer survivors say that their illness was a gift that caused them to appreciate each day, I don't really get it.

I am sure they are not making it up, but I never found the experience to be a gift that altered my world view. I am who I was.

But certain moments are heightened by the experience. Often this is in a bad way, for example when you feel fluish or tired or your head hurts or whatever and rather than feeling just plain sick you layer on such fears as "Maybe this means I'm relapsing."

Sometimes the memories lead to brighter moments, and when this happens it's as close as I come to understanding what people mean when they say they now appreciate things more.

I am still playing tennis outside, though I have reluctantly gone in when necessary.

It was cool Wednesday morning as I headed out to George's clinic, so I put on long pants. But it quickly got hot, so I rolled my pants up to a little under my knees.

The sun on my legs, and then the breeze against them, felt so great. I immediately flashed back to being in a hospital room with that artificial air, and I thought, this is so much better. My mind had automatically drawn the contrast so that I appreciated the current moment more.

By the way, this happened in a split second. It's not as though I was standing there staring into space letting balls fly all around me.

I had these "bright moments" a few times yesterday.

One was a funny moment when George told everyone it was time to get down on the clay and do push-ups. He did it, and some of us, including me, followed. I can only do "girl push-ups" (hence no chaturanga for me in yoga), and not that many, but I did my best.

Wow, I thought, I'm down here on the clay and I'm even about to stand up...a long way from where I was.

Then there is the matter of picking up the balls that are all over the place during a clinic. I actually always liked picking up balls. I put the hopper in one hand and then the other for a kind of weight-lifting practice. When there is a group of balls, I squat down and throw them in. Down, up. Down up. I like the focus of it all.

Wednesday as I was picking up balls, feeling the sun on my back, I got some clay under my fingernails.   Again, the image of a sanitized super-clean hospital room.

I was so happy to be where I was.