it’s the eve of Rosh Hashana Eve and most of my friends are busy making apple cakes and setting fancy tables. I’m not cooking this year, having been warmly invited to join both family and friends for all festive meals. I’m not even putting up the Sukkah, which makes me very sad, but also relieves me a little: I adore entertaining, but I just can’t do it this year, not to my satisfaction. (also, physically putting up the Sukkah is just not going to happen!)
So I’d like to take this moment to wish each and everyone of you a very sweet new year. Last year on Rosh Hashana, we were celebrating J’s transplant. We thought we had finally put all medical nightmares behind us, we looked forward to travelling, to doing things as a family of 4 instead of 3 with one at home. ha ha ha ha ha! We didn’t have a full 6 months, we had to change our trip once I got diagnosed, and I’m the one who stays home now while the 3 of them do things.
But one great thing that has come out of all of this is the unbelievable support we have gotten. Throughout the years, we have always relied on our amazing friends: a playdate, a ride to school, little things to get us through when J was suddenly in the hospital for a few weeks. To have to ask for help a mere 6 months after already asking for help was very hard for me. I’m a self-sufficient, rely-on-no-one, fiercely independent person. Yet I found myself one week post-mastectomy, pinned to a chair without my arms mobile, while my husband underwent a small procedure to insert a stent in his airways…. There is no plan B, C, or D for that. The is only one plan: SOS.
So thank you.
Thank you for the playdates. Thank you for the soup. Thank you for the meals that went in the freezer for the days we couldn’t operate the stove. Thank you for the cakes, cookies and banana bread. Thank you for hanging out with me while I sat in the blue chair. Thank you for coming to hang at chemo. Thank you for sending me f-bombs via chat or text message. Thank you for listening to me go on about all the embarrassing ailments I suffered as side effects. Thank you for the pool visits and the porch hang-outs. Thank you to the far-flung friends who travelled all the way here just to spend time with us. Thank you to my team for walking and raising a shit-load of cash. Thank you for supporting us by donating to the auction or buying up all of the things. thank you for the straight up donations. Thank you for the kind works via email, text, chats and yes, even thank you for those who dared to break the 4th dimension and call me on the phone.
I wish I could start this new year on a new page, but I still have a couple of unfinished chapters in this one. A few more chemos, a ton of radiation, more surgery. But it’s a lot let scary when you are surrounded by so much support.