Today, I turn 40 years old. Holy Shizballz, y’all, I’m 40.
Two months ago, I was pretty smug about turning 40. I had made it, and I had made it without any of the major horrible pratfalls of my family – no cancer. HA. God has a sick and twisted sense of humor, no?
You see, my dad was 41 when they found his colon cancer. High up, and invasive, so it had probably been there for a couple of years. My sister was 35 when they found hers and had determined that she had probably originated her tumor at 33. Betsy was 41 when they found her cancer. She never made it to 42. My grandmother, who also had endometrial cancer was in her late 30s. She lived to be 84. I hope I take after her.
So I was smug. I had made it to 40 (almost) without any cancer issues. Right?
So, two months ago, I was planning a “Lordy Lordy Fabulous and 40” birthday party for myself. A Big Ass Shinding in which all of my friends were invited (no seriously, over a 100 people were invited y’all) for this past weekend. I was going to have margarita cupcakes, and apple pie (um, the kind you drink) and a DJ (I happened to know a good one, who works for kisses! – um, my husband). I cancelled that when the hysterectomy was scheduled.
Instead, I spent my birthday weekend on Saturday with my Mom, since I was feeling really good. And then yesterday, I was doubled over, nauseated, and constipated beyond belief feeling like hell.
And this morning, for my actual birthday, I feel ok. Yay. I had to have my bloodwork drawn this morning, and celebrated with a splurge of coffee at the McD’s on the way home – 5 splenda and extra cream. Hell yeah. I’m also spending the day fighting with Met Life to find out why they haven’t approved my disability extension. Oh, and plowing through 187 emails from work that I got just last week.
My 40th is nothing like I expected this year. But I am 40. And that, in and of itself, is a milestone. Let’s see. I was morbidly obese my entire life (hey, cancer treatments will get you to your goal weight pretty quick pretty fast) until the last three years. I had a heart attack at 30 (thank you genetic pool from hell). I have had two knee surgeries (one on each knee). I’ve had gastric bypass (another dangerous surgery). And now cancer. So yeah, 40 is a pretty big milestone, all things considered.
So, today, I’m appreciating the fact that I’m alive. And today, feeling pretty good. I’m enjoying my store bought coffee. I’ll be having a (cooked) sushi dinner to celebrate with my honey at some point this week. I am upright, and alive. I have family and friends who love me and support me. I have a job. And insurance. And the best fucking husband that God could have ever put on the face of this earth. So all in all, I’m a lucky girl. Can I still call myself a girl, now that I”m officially “middle-aged?”
And next year, the 41st birthday party is going to be a hell of a wingding Y’all. Because it’s going to be a “Fuck You CANCER” Party.
So look out.