Imagine the future

"When I retire . . ."

"On vacation next year, I'm visiting. . ."

"In our next house, I'd like a . . ."

"When the kids are gone . . ."

It's fun to imagine the future and make plans for our life in it. Everyone does it. I knew at the beginning of my working career that I'd could retire at the age of 65 in 2032.

With my cancer diagnosis, my perspective on future-planning statements shifted. I may not always verbalize it, but in my mind, I often add the word if. It's such a tiny word, but it carries enormous meaning.

If and when I retire, I'd like to move to Port Franks.
Then I could play at the "spa" all the time because my house would also be the spa. Of course, there's always great company in Port Franks.

If and when we take a vacation next year, I'd like to go to Australia.
Of course, health isn't the only factor to make this scenario reality, but it's now a big one for me. I'd love to experience so many destinations but the pesky roadblocks of insufficient funds and too little vacation time have often thrown cold water on those plans. But that's reality for most people I know.

If we move in my lifetime, in our next house, I'd like a garage.
During the last few months, I've wondered if my current home would be my last house. In the past, I used to peruse real estate ads seeking a new, better, different house. I've stopped since my diagnosis because in my mind, I couldn't plan for the future. I couldn't commit to something I didn't know if I could finish. It's still too big for me to contemplate. But perhaps, if and when I move to Port Franks, I'll get that garage.

If I'm still alive, when the kids are gone . . .
This is a huge worry of mine. I can't imagine not being alive to help raise my kids into the people they're going to be. If I'm still here when the kids move out, I'll be able to see some of the choices they've made for their careers, potential mates, life decisions, etc. I'd know that Michael and I taught them the foundations to live their lives and make their own choices.

If we do our jobs right, we raise our kids to leave us. I'd like to be able to finish doing that job.

Of course, then there's all that free time to enjoy without breaking up fights, handing out money, packing lunches, helping with homework, doing laundry, nagging, etc. I could spend more time with Michael doing activities we enjoy. I married him because he's my best friend and I LIKE his company. I'd go back to being Tina more often than Mom.

Before, it was easy to believe I was going to live a very, very long time. My grandpa Thomas died at age 90. He was as tall as he was wide, loved fatty foods and chewed tobacco. He bucked the odds. I take after the Thomas side of the family so, in my mind, I was going to be really old.

And the lifeline on my palm (not that I really believe in that stuff) is deep, straight and long; actually wrapping around to the other side of my hand.

I often imagined being old and what life could be like.

Don't get me wrong, all this introspection doesn't mean I won't be around for a long, long time, but it demonstrates how cancer changed my perspective. It shocked me into realizing, there are no guarantees, for any length of time in life.

It's still hard for me to make future plans with the little black cloud of cancer raining over my head. I've just now started making shorter-term plans: a celebratory getaway with Michael when treatments are over to reconnect, returning to work, activities for the kids in the falls, etc. I'm still having a little bit of trouble with long term. Maybe that will be easier when I'm declared cancer free.

But a little voice in the back of my head may always say, "for now." I may have to learn to live and plan with that little voice.

But I guess the lesson in all of this is, take advantage of today. Don't procrasinate important things, if you can do them now. Every day is a gift and we're responsible for filling it with activities and actions important to each of us.

Tina