My cancer diagnosis and treatment plan unfolded like the petals of a flower in the sun. At first it was a tiny manageable bud, ready to be nipped

Then the petal opened up, and slowly the magnificent structure of the careful slow poisoning of my body—the enemy cancer was the target, but there was collateral damage. The baton relay of specialists who managed the stages of the assault was unexpected and continuous.

After I was handed off the team of surgeons and I video-met the oncologist, while I still had a drain in from my mastectomy, the oncologist with patience and kindness told me the new news:

The next phase was going to be 4 months of chemo.

FOUR MONTHS

I asked my questions, in a state of groggy shock. My husband was there too. “Thank you, that’s all.”

Click

I stood up and grabbed my husband and sobbed . I had come to terms with the diagnosis, and the surgery.

But 4 months of misery broke me.

Heh. It was way longer than that in the event.

The tear-drenched shoulder on my husband showed my despair and the value I place on celebration, adventure and joy.

2 and a half years ago, I heard what sounded like prison doors slamming from my oncologist..

6 months ago, in the twilight of my last cancer treatment, groggy and weak I took a leap of faith in the future and bought the plane tickets I to New Orleans.

My dear friend had a house there and I had a standing invitation. I’d thought of her and of that city while I lay abed dreaming of my chance to go.

As I write I am flying home— I had a full week to realized all those sleepless night dreams.

I didn’t go on Marti Gras, the famous celebration. I went on a Tuesday in October–an ordinary day.

And even so, the expression of joy music and fun was pumping.The machine was primed to keep going with celebration.

Musicians had learned the music

The people in the kitchen knew th4 recipe.

They didn’t forget after the parade was done.

My host took me to a gorgeous old bar, and the fourpiece band (Mostly brass) played all the songs.

Joyful and jumping.

And Then…

Witches—women in elaborate witch costumes—with all their friends walked into the bar. The band played on.

It seems that once they got the habit of dressing up, the people take any occasion to do it again.

Through the whole weekend, more costumes showed up as we went around town—a fabulous pirate, a green Poison Ivy. One older couple came to the Zydeco show in full body penguin jammies.

I tried to liven up the cancer treatment. Theses guys have tught me something.

Wear the costeume. Play the music. Yes, order the drink. Celebration is a habit I can pick up.