We had to move.
And the past few weeks have been a shaky walk to find my feet
again. It all happened so fast.
The diagnosis, the shock, the decision, booking flights, my sober 21st
birthday, going back to our beloved town of Moscow one last time,
fainting, forgetting my meds, hundreds of friends coming out on our 'official'
last night wearing crazy wigs to send us off.
It was a tear-stained, messy, joyful night.
The next day - the last day - was ours alone, to relish in the
joys we had shared, alone and together, with our hometown over the past three
years. Coffee at One World, cheesecake at Bucers, tacos at Casa, gyros at
Mikeys, dinner at the restaurant we went on our first date at (we were full!)
before watching 'It's a Wonderful Life" at the town's gorgeous, historic
cinema.
We wandered home one last time, hand in hand, new snow falling
gently on the bare winter trees lining the streets. We walked up the bright
orange painted stairs and all their excitement for our new life together. We
crawled into our bed one last time. I'm not sure we even entered our office, or
went out onto the roof/balcony, spaces that had contained our plans and dreams,
for it was in darkness the next morning we left.
Under the watchful eye of the flight attendants, we made the long
journey to Wellington, New Zealand. The capital city was shrouded in fog
when we arrived, adding to our daze (okay, I'm especially dazed) as we wound up
to our home for the next while on narrow streets lined by twisting Pohutukawa.
When the fog lifted, we saw Wellington. From the top of Cluny ave,
the sun rises in arrays of reds and oranges and purples over the Orogorongas to
the East, journeys over the distant Rimutakas and Tararua ranges perched
up the north of the sparkly harbour, and sets over the massive, rolling hills
aptly called 'the Skyline'.
We managed to go up to Taranaki, my homeland, for Christmas,
staying in little cabins on the waterfront. What a heartwarming experience it
was, to see my dad and his family after all this time...and all this. How
wonderfully therapeutic is was to swim in the ocean on Christmas day.
I’ve missed the incessant pokes and jabs and medication so much
that I will begin IVF tomorrow. IVF - a concept I remember learning about in
high school science and not blinking an eye to. It’s something that applies
only to old women who have left things too late, right?
It was a surprisingly easy decision to go ahead with the fertility
treatment and embryo freezing. Not so long ago, both staunchly independent
world travellers, we were would have laughed at such a concept as having
children. So, our parents are about to become a grandparents of multiple cold,
very well behaved grandchildren. We are currently accepting applications for
godparent roles for each of them.
The sunshine of this sudden summertime and going for small walks
are helping me build strength in this precious bit of time while I wait for
radiation therapy to begin on Monday.
It’s funny…I actually can’t wait to
begin. Of course, It’s no fun being in hospitals and they still get me down in
their own strange way, and being in ‘the mask’ is claustrophobic and
uncomfortable (breathing deeply and sending my mind to other places being my
strategy), but I’m really excited about starting radiation. It feels like such
a long wait since surgery, such a long time waiting around with life on hold
for this treatment that now looms.
Life is good.
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