A blissfully bland morning

Sometimes, on days like today, I can almost forget that we are a family dealing with cancer. Everything about today has been ordinary: cartoons during a Froot Loop and Cheerios combo breakfast, a dance-off between B and myself with Avie judging our skill and finesse (I lost, not surprisingly), painting Princess pictures on my bedroom floor (every princess with the exception of my Ariel is purple), B's deft avoidance of her lunch by insisting that we eat alfresco and then dashing into the sandbox when my back was turned. Everything was exactly the same as it was before the diagnosis. The smiles, the laughs, the sunshine on the back deck.

Then, a call from the Interlink nurse from CHEO (nothing to worry about, everyone! Just an appointment rescheduling) and I am reminded of the illness. Oh yeah...cancer, right--I almost forgot.

It's easy to forget that she is unwell when there are no more symptoms present. It's easy to forget when the surgery scars are healing so well. It's easy to forget when B has sailed through two chemo treatments so smoothly and with, thank God, no complications so far. I know it will not always be like this, that she won't always seem so healthy, so happy, so perfect--but I can't help hoping that the worst is already behind us and that the simplicity of this blissfully bland morning remains.

Either way, I know in my heart of hearts that we will beat this thing. Some days, I must remind myself to draw strength from my daughter's overflowing good spirits--she has more than enough to spare--and when I do, I know that she will overcome cancer. That she will walk in the Survivor's Circle at the Relay for Life next summer. That she will wear her decades-old scars, her badges of honour, with pride. That she will one day show her grandchildren her courage beads and tell them her story. Until then, all I can promise her is more smiles, more laughs and more sunshine on the back deck this summer--and every summer thereafter.