Until this year, I had never mowed a lawn.  Someone once told me that if I never learn how, I'll never be expected to do it.  Seemed like good logic to me.  But I took the plunge this summer to alleviate some of the lawn work burden that has rested on John's shoulders for many years.  I kind of enjoyed mowing—the physical exertion, the accomplishment of cutting rows into the grass, the neatness of the finished product.  I'll do it again—but I don't promise to take it on as a regular job.  John is still the lawn expert.

Until this year, I had never camped.  I'm not much of an outdoor adventure person.  I've always thought I'd prefer hotels to tents, daily showers to sporadic cleansing of the body, home-cooked meals to campsite goodies.  And while I did not exactly "rough it" on my recent camping trip, I did venture into a world previously unknown to me.

My family of four joined relatives (another family of four) at Fort Wilderness—Disney's campground—and we camped in their RV.  There were some luxuries that prevented me from knowing the true camping experience—we had a bathroom, a mini-kitchen, beds, and heat.  There were community showers too.  Other than the cramped quarters, it was pretty fun.  It would have been better had Danny allowed us to sleep.  He struggled to fall asleep and then woke much too early, leaving all eight of us with not enough sleep to feel very spunky.  So Danny and I returned a night early and left John and Joey for another night of adventure.  Danny and I came back to our comfy beds, slept well, and soaked up the joys of being at home.

Until this year, I had never received treatment for cancer.  And today, after another Herceptin infusion and one year of almost constant treatment, I realize I am a somewhat of a pro at this process.  It's routine, it's somewhat effortless, it's not all that bad.  Maybe after a year of mowing lawns, I'd be really good at that too.  Or camping.  If I continued to partake in the outdoor festivities, I may actually find that it is peaceful to escape from the rush of life, despite lack of sleep.

I think I'm good at my current chemo.  And I find the experience peaceful.  Maybe it's the time alone. Or the knowledge that I am actively fighting cancer.  Or just the routine of it all.  I think when this treatment ends in July, I will feel unsettled.  I will be on my own then, just trusting that I will be OK without constant medical intervention.

And then I will adjust to a new experience—living without treatment.   I'm sure I can be good at that too.  With a little practice.  Next year.