My Dad asked me the other day, in a somewhat contentious debate about the merits of a day trip to Disney World being the best idea, “You’re not giving up or anything, are you?” His question, and concern, was understandable – after recovering and taking it easy for the last several weeks, a slightly impulsive decision to join my family for a day at amusement parks can easily be seen as “getting it in now.”
That’s not why the Sharpe family was at The Most Magical Place on Earth, though. Our cousin had a dancing audition there, and Jen wanted to combine seeing extended family with a trip to the park. I felt up to tagging along for the ride to Disney and planned to join them in the evening at the Magic Kingdom. In the meantime, I would take care of some busy work in the room – paying bills, submitting insurance stuff, and generally getting us somewhat caught up with life.
Then I looked in the mirror. Forget cancer, or even major surgery recovery. My kids were going to Disney, the youngest one for the first time. I am still recovering, but it wasn’t like I was or am incapacitated. Was I really going to sit and fill out forms and use my current medical state to justify a few hours of busy work? Was I really being given the chance to create a special memory and passing it up for AFLAC and Wells Fargo paperwork?
Off went the computer. Back into the to-do folder went the forms. On went the socks and sneakers and comfortable walking clothes. It’s not exactly carpe diem, but looking in that mirror, I remembered the first blog post – “I am not letting cancer define me” – and told a surprised and delighted Jen that we were taking the children to Disney World, right now, and that we had better hurry because the lines are already getting long.