Still Polly, still human

Here I am. Day three of feeling so good it makes me mad.

Sunday. 
It's day three of me doing as much as I possibly can while I feel good. I'm packing today completely full of things I love to do: decorating, cleaning, cooking, pacing, spray painting, art projects, puttering. I'm beginning to feel sorry for Riley because he is following me up and down the stairs, inside, outside, around back, in the basement door and up two flights to the bedroom and back down again.

What the dog has wanted me to do all day is this. Sit down for more than 5 minutes.

Friday.
Woke up early feeling good. I took Riley out at 4:45 am. The sky was unbelievably clear, and the stars were bright, huge, and went all the way to the ground. I stood there waiting for the dog to do his business wondering why God loves humans more than those stars. They're so pretty, and they aren't whiny, they don't complain, they just do what they're created to do.

An hour and a half later I was dressed and about to put on the wig. The wig. I stared at myself in the mirror, realizing that I totally jumped the gun on buzzing my hair. I don't have any bald patches yet, it's all still intact. I could have been rocking my short pixie this whole time and saved myself from the wig. I'm not used to it. I'm still super self-conscious. It's also itchy and doesn't feel natural. But what choice did I have. I was standing with the wig wadded up in one hand when I realized Bob was looking at me, getting all the crazy emotions from my face. Next thing I knew I was in a giant Bob bear hug and the tears were falling. "This is not fun," I bawled. But I dried it up, put the thing on and went to work.

I'm going to tell you the truth: I felt sorry for myself all day. I'm not proud of it. There's no excuse. I felt good. Surprisingly free of side effects. I felt nearly like my old self (minus one boob and plus one wig).

All day, I couldn't find the reset, and I knew exactly why. It will end. Chemo is coming.

Saturday.
"I was the only person at Mass wearing a hat," I text Bob.

I had decided to go to 4 pm Saturday Mass so I could sit with my mother- and father-in-law, After a full day of projects and puttering, and feeling really good, I just could not put the wig on. I couldn't do it. So I pulled out one of my cute hats, put it on, and went for it. I felt totally comfortable, like myself.

Until I walked into church. If someone can spot a wig, they knew last Sunday I was wearing one. But everyone can spot a hat. And boy did they. Every time I glanced around the packed sanctuary I saw another person looking at the hat. For about a second I thought about ripping it off my number-two-guard-buzzed-head with a big flourish. I wondered if the gasps would be audible.

I got a grip, put it all aside and just focused on what God was telling me. It's not a coincidence that the message of Mass was gratitude. Naaman being cleansed. The ten lepers being healed and only one returning to thank Jesus. I could barely fight back the tears.

See, I get it. Feeling good. Feeling bad. It doesn't matter. What matters is seeing God in it all, through it all. I'm ALIVE because he wills it, because he's thinking about me, because he loves me.

God loves me. He loves me more than those stars I was staring at early Friday morning. He sent his Son to save me, after all. And he loves me despite the fact that I can be petulant, pouty, pessimistic. I whine. I misbehave. I'm full of ugly human-ness that is so annoying.

But as Riley was running toward me flat-out, hair flying, with a big goofy dog-smile, it dawned on me. Riley misbehaves. He barks a lot. He gets under my feet. He has to be first out the door. He's greedy and eats Kenai's food. He's full of annoying doggy-ness.

But I would rather have Riley than a picture of him. I would rather have him than a stuffed dog. I would rather have him than the idea of him. I love him.

I have no idea what the next few days will be like.  Anything's possible (including ditching the wig for a while).

I do know this:

"Yes, the Lord shall comfort Zion and have pity on all her ruins; Her deserts he shall make like Eden, her wasteland like the garden of the Lord; Joy and gladness shall be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of song." (Isaiah 51:3)