White Light, Tinted with a Tiny Drop of Red

This morning’s post will be shorter than usual, surely a welcome respite to followers of this blog, people who must tire of regularly reading screeds that lately take on characteristics of a poorly-written nonfiction version of War and Peace.

I have places to be and people to see this morning. A lung-tissue biopsy, followed by a visit to a medical imaging clinic to pick up a disk containing files of recent CT and PET scans. I need the disks to take to my Friday follow-up medical appointment.  As potentially troublesome as those sorts of things can be, I am reasonably confident it’s all just “an abundance of caution.” My confidence was boosted yesterday, when I received a notice of a scheduling change for this Friday’s medical appointment. Instead of a consultation with the surgeon who performed my lung-cancer surgery around Thanksgiving three years ago, I will see the surgeon’s nurse practitioner. I suspect a closer look at the PET scan by the surgeon led him to determine the reasons for concern were far less concerning than originally thought; hence, shuttling me to someone else so he can devote his attention to more pressing and critical matters. Today’s biopsy is still going forward, of course, but unless it reveals a surprise, all will be well. Yeah, I know it sounds like I’m viewing the world through rose-colored glasses (didn’t I just write something about that recently?), but I think not. Although, as I consider it, my joy at finding myself enmeshed in a wonderful relationship with a wonderful woman might tend to make the world look like a friendlier, more loving, and safer place. If that’s what rose-colored glasses look like, I’ll have a few extra pairs, please, to ensure every day is as clear and inviting as the one before.

My girlfriend and I have a bet of sorts. I think the biopsy this morning will be completed and we’ll be out of the hospital by lunchtime. She laughs at my naiveté, suggesting we’ll be lucky to get out of the hospital before it’s time for our next breakfast. I want to treat her to lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant; I hope I win.

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Giddy. That’s how I feel. Like a kid let loose with no restrictions in a candy store. It’s occasionally necessary, for the maintenance of (or return to) good mental health, to return to the joyous freedoms of one’s childhood. I think the world would be a better place if more of us would cast off the solemnity of adulthood with some regularity, trading seriousness for lightness and frivolity. Doing so does not negate the pain of loss or the concerns we all have about world around us. But embracing joy and appreciating simple good luck can make more tolerable those unhappy encounters with a universe that has no stake in keeping us happy. There may be a time when slitting my wrists might seem like the best option, but now is not it. Today is the time for me to be enormously grateful to love and be loved by someone I find absolutely, completely, utterly awesome. Today is a day to be giddy, happy, and glad to be alive.

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If I don’t stop now, I might make this short post a long one. Enough. Off to fight the wars and smile in the process.