No Parking Zone

Have you ever had the feeling that your life was parked in a no parking zone? By this, I mean that you found yourself stalled on the sideline in a place you didn't belong, but you couldn't go forward. Maybe it was due to a bad marriage, or a bad job, or a bad course of events that ensnared you. But whatever the reason, you just weren't moving ahead.

That's how this breast cancer experience is starting to feel, like being parked in a red zone, but being powerless to move on. Now that the calendar reads 2008, I can see that my 50th birthday is on the horizon, and I'd like to make some plans. But instead, I'm waiting for the results of the Oncotype Dx test, in order to resolve the chemo question, before the birthday planning begins.

This is vaguely reminiscent of a time when my boys were little. For a seven-year stretch, beginning when Joe was about 12 months old and lasting until Nick started kindergarten, I stayed home with them. During this phase, my job titles included wife, mother, chief cook, director of procurement, laundress, chauffeur, and pediatric nurse (in training). For the most part, I was happy not to have a paying job. I had traded sitting at a computer for standing behind a swing. Instead of discussing marketing proposals, or whatever I talked about in my former work life, I met with other mothers and strategized about entertaining a three-year-old, while balancing a baby on one's hip, while chopping an onion.

Mostly, I was content during those years, but I remember an occasional voice in my head that called for actual achievements. The snide voice rudely chided me for passing off the milestones of my kids as if they were my own. To shut this internal monologue up, I usually looked, half-heartedly, for free-lance work, and sometimes I landed a writing project. Having real-world work soaked up my excess energy for a time. The work also reassured me that my brain was still capable of doing more than recognizing all of the Sesame Street characters. But inevitably, with my deadline approaching, I was always forced to admit that I was spread too thin to add an employer into the mix. In short, I was parked in my house during those years, albeit for a worthy effort, while I watched other thirty-somethings race by in the fast lane.

Of course, this phase of parenting is well behind me now, and, in hindsight, staying home with the kids was absolutely the right decision for me. I expect that waiting another week more for these last tests results will also prove to be the absolute right choice. And what alternative do I have? Dive into chemo because I'm getting antsy, or wait for the data to make a reasoned decision. Hmmm. So for the moment, I'm idling in a no parking zone. Must be time for a big, thick, all consuming novel. Book recommendations anyone?

(I'll go first. The books listed to the right are all worthwhile reads.)