You Can Only Sit Back and Laugh. A Lot.

While a couple of relationships in my life have crashed and burned in the last year (related to the separation), others have delightfully grown into something dear and very special to me.

One level of friendship that must be dealt with concerns my illness. There's no hiding from it, if you're in my life it has to be understood that it and I are inseparable. Sometimes I have to cancel plans, other times I have a short burst of energy that I'd like to take advantage of with someone whose company I enjoy. Other times there's no need for it to come up in conversation; although it always does because the people in my life care about how I'm feeling and always ask for an update.

An aspect of these relationships is the comfort level with including humour in discussing my health. I've come to realize that the more easily we can joke about my health, the more I know in my heart that the friend is there for the long haul. Not out of obligation or because of curiousity - but because they truly want to be part of my life and know that I want them around too.

Case in point (or two cases actually).

A few weeks ago it was my birthday. Not a big deal, my daughter's birthday follows the next day and I'd rather concentrate on her celebration (she was an amazing belated present for me nineteen years ago and nothing could ever top that). A dear friend sent me a card and thoughtfully included a scratch lottery ticket in hopes that I might win big.

 I waited until my birthday to open it (I'm superstitious like that, thanks Mom), and emailed my friend to thank her. What poured forth was a horrified apology from her with the realization that she had enclosed a Cash For Life ticket, she'd agonized about it for days worrying that I'd take offence at the name of the lottery.

We had a good giggle about it (I truly hadn't registered which scratch card I'd been given - I just enjoy the fun of  hoping for at least a free ticket). Which I did get, over and over again until the lucky streak ended yesterday.

Well, an opportunity for a good laugh struck again last night. This friend had received a call from Costco about having purchased ground beef which is potentially contaminated. Beef which she'd used to prepare chili for me which she'd thoughtfully portioned out for the freezer to cover off a bunch of meals if I wasn't feeling up to cooking while I'm going through treatment.

Another worried email, very concerned that although there has been no reported illness - with my compromised immune system it might be a different story. Wouldn't it be something to get this far with battling ECD only to pass of food poisoning? For the record, I'd already eaten a portion last week and was perfectly fine. And perfectly sated, the chili was delicious. Not to make light of the recall - I pray that nobody becomes ill - but this story is of the thread that makes the fabric of my life.

My friends and I can joke about all this because if they know me at all - they sense that my demise will have some sort of "it could only happen to Sandy" component to it. 'Cause that's just the kind of luck I have. And the great luck to have friends who roll with it all.