Christmas Past
Two years have passed since December 2022 and the cough that changed my life. Forever.
My darling granddaughter, Audenia, was born on December 30. I went to see her, came back, saw my doctor, and by January 2023 began a journey that I didn’t expect to last this long. Yet, here I am, living in three-month increments with lung cancer.
It changed my life.
By the time I finished my first course of radiation/chemotherapy, my grandson, Finley, was born. I say first because there was more.
In December of 2023, I began to experience vertigo and a ringing in my left ear combined with loss of hearing. By January 2024, I was at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., undergoing a different kind of radiation called Gamma Knife.
I made it through this Christmas with a bad cold and some anxiety about an upcoming CT scan in January that will determine the following three months of my life.
My current medication has side effects. After my body adapted to the twice-daily doses, my life became fairly normalexcept for my short-term memory. People say it’s my age, but the meds accelerated the symptoms.
Sometimes, I can’t recall what I did two minutes ago, but I remember so many wonderful things in my past. Life was so different.
Christmas Presence
It’s funny how we use words all the time, thinking they mean one thing, and when I look them up, the meaning changes.
There are four definitions of the word “presence” in the Oxford Dictionary. In short, they are:
- The state of existence
- A person or thing that exists, but is not seen, and
- A group of people stationed in a particular place. Think military.
- The impressive manner or appearance of a person
A friend shared a post about a family that finally implemented a “presence” instead of “presents” policy at Christmas. I love the idea. For years, my wish was that we only purchase gifts for the under-18-years-of-age crowd and enjoy the gatherings. None of us need more stuff.
When I think about Christmas past, my memories center more around church services, singing hymns in German, learning our “piece” for the school and Sunday School program, visiting grandparents, and special treats only available around the end of the year like nuts in the shell, chocolate-covered raisins and citrus fruit.
There were small gifts from our grandparents. Tokens like little silver jewelry boxes, Barbie doll dresses (even though I never owned a Barbie, while my granddaughters owned boxes of them), or a paint-by-number set. My maternal grandmother gave us a dollar bill and a box of Cracker Jack. When we were older, she crocheted doilies and toilet paper covers for her 46 or more grandchildren.
Mostly, it was about the food.
Now I watch my grandchildren open mountains of gifts from the many grandparents, aunts and uncles. There are Christmas dinners at multiple homes. It seems Christmas starts earlier and earlier every year. I wonder where the anticipation went.
I want to anticipate Christmas like we used to have rather than my next doctor’s visit.
The Future
Yikes. Where do I begin? I’m reading Louise Erdrich’s latest book, “The Mighty Red.” She is my favorite author and I have read every book she has ever written. After watching 60 Minutes last night, followed by my before-bed reading time, I’m left with some fairly unsure thoughts about the future.
Seeing the advance of AI and the robot featured on the news program was scary. Think “Terminator.” Oh sure, they say it will never happen, but there’s always a “what if?”
I have spent the past couple of weeks learning how to send out an electronic newsletter. It seemed simple enough until I had to set up a verified email and learn new design software replete with AI. (Yes, I looked up the word replete to make sure it fit the sentence). Naturally, everything costs one more subscription. That’s a topic for another time.
I will be more on board with AI when it, whatever it is exactly, comes up with a cure for my cancer. This needs to happen before it’s too late.
However, it was the chapter in “The Mighty Red” that hit home. Within the story, Louise shared her thoughts about what’s happening to the natural world around us.
Remember how many bugs you had to scrape off your car when driving in North Dakota around dusk? Remember the birds following our grandfather’s tractors, picking off worms from rich dark soil during spring planting?
Our large flock of turkeys will never replace the Meadowlarks or masses of songbirds awakening spring with a magnificent chorus, now reduced to nearly nothing.
It frightens me that everyone is scared of spiders, snakes, grasshoppers and crickets. I tell people Mother Nature can live without us. We can not live without Mother Nature.
The future is not mine. I have had my life and it’s been an interesting one. I’m praying for more years. January’s tests will be telling.
In the meantime, I have my past Christmas memories. I practice presence daily and pray for a meaningful 2025, untethered from the material, focused on the spiritual.
Happy New Year, my friends.
INDYchildrendotme 
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