They Say It's Your Birthday...

December 29, 1951

Wow, I do not think I've skipped two months here for quite a while.  I haven't been doing much art, other than a few small collages in a sketchbook, nothing I wanted to share.

I have been considering my birthday, though.  Most of my life I've been grumpy about the date I was born, right between Christmas and New Year.  Since my birthday is so late in the year, I usually think of myself as older than I actually am. I was born in 1950, so, this year I turned sixty-eight at the end of December, but thought of myself as that age most of the year.  I have the usual complaints. I often got my birthday presents on Christmas, since everyone was already together. I don't like it that so many the celebrations are lumped together in December, a month not known for its good weather in Wisconsin. When I wanted to go out to a nice restaurant out of town, often the roads were snow covered and slippery.

Of course there are some good things too - I had a closet full of warm clothing and socks. I never had to go to school or work on my birthday. Often out of town family and friends visit at this time of year.

But this year, even though we didn't have a party, and there were no gifts, I was very very happy.  I wasn't altogether sure I'd be alive for this birthday.  My cancer diagnosis in 2017 turned my illusions about control and certainty upside down.  I still feel pretty good, but my cancer is slowly progressing.  I've had two different rounds of chemo that were ineffective, and radiation that helped well, but only for a few months.  I was excited to learn that a Milwaukee hospital has two experimental drug trials for my kind of cancer, so I did all the testing and paperwork for one only to be disqualified the day before I was supposed to start treatment.  I applied for the other drug trial this week.

This year on December 29th my dear husband and I went out to the local Olive Garden, had a nice meal, came home to watch a movie on television, and called it a day.  That was just fine by me, since slippery roads weren't a problem, and I felt good enough to eat my dinner and drink a glass of wine. Just having an average day, not counting the nearly 100 birthday greeting on Facebook, and sleeping comfortably in my own bed, was all I could ask for.  

No party or gifts required.