Joyce in Santa Monica. Photo by Diana Lundin
Being normal was never high on my list of priorities. Normal was one of those adjectives I kept stored with banal, trite, average and the like. Like pastel colors, the concept of normal can be pleasant enough, but I’ve always gone for memorable over pleasant.
The life I was born into; caucasian, middle-class, protestant; was something I heartily rebelled against in my youth. I didn’t realize at the time how terribly normal that rebellion was for a gal like me. For religion I chose Wicca over Methodism, then developed eclectic tastes in music (from Ma Rainey to Mozart), literature (Didion to De Sade) and female companions. Never mind about the companions…just know they have ranged from the oddly sweet to the not-so-sweetly odd.
Despite all of that, I managed to turn into a happily married, middle-aged dweller of a middle-class neighborhood in Los Angeles. Except…I haven’t felt normal since last November, when I discovered I had lung cancer. Suddenly, the idea of feeling normal seems pretty darn special.
Due to (what seemed to be) endless medical appointments, tests and treatments from November through the end of May, that sense of normalcy hasn’t been part day-to-day life for me. The second week of June found me finally recovered from the last chemo treatment and feeling mighty…normal. My energy and appetite had mostly returned, my scalp was beginning to sprout new hair and it was back to backyard cookouts, hikes with friends, and enthusiastically executed yard work. For nearly a month I’ve been blissfully engaged in summer activities typical for people in this country. My wife and I even attended the Fourth of July Dodgers game…and were thrilled by the usual magnificent fireworks displays and exhuberant patriotic music. So, here I am, finally overjoyed to be that average, middle-aged woman having a little vacation in the land of normalcy.
The vacation is over. I’ll begin taking a high dose of prednisone daily for the radiation pneumonitis, then undergo the first of two more rounds of hair killing, energy destroying, chemo on Friday. Oh, well…we’re aiming to kill some more cancer cells; a slow process, but it’s working. By the end of August, with this batch of treatments behind me, I’ll return to my normal little life, which will await in all of its common, yet fleeting, splendor.
Posted by Joyce Croker 