Be Careful What You Wish For...

Something I have repeatedly thought over the last couple of months is, "Be careful what you wish for...it could come true."  Here is a list of things I once upon a time either wished for or had a fleeting thought about:

1. I wish I could wear one of those fancy hats.
2. I wish I could take a nap.
3. I wish I had better makeup and knew how to put it on.
4. I wish I had more time to spend with my friends.
5. I wish I could have a bit more time away from these demanding children.
6. I wish I had my own personal cook.
7. I wish I, like many celebrities, could stay home with my kids AND have a Nanny.
8. I wish my bra fit properly.
9. Now that we are finished producing children, I wish I didn't have to deal with this monthly pest.
10. I wish I didn't have quite so many stretch marks.

And here is how those wishes have come true, though not in the way I envisioned them:

1. I love the hats they wear in Downton Abbey!  I love the hats you see at the Kentucky Derby.  I love the hats Princess Kate wears.  I really like hats and always wished I was bold enough to wear them. Thanks cancer.
2. Almost every week day afternoon, I now take a nap...or at least lie down to read a book.  Thanks cancer.
3. In order to feel good about myself while bald and eyebrow-less, I now wear makeup.  Thanks to Cathy and my sister, I also (kind of) now know how to wear it.  Thanks cancer.
4. Every Monday, I am lucky enough to have several friends (and an amazing husband) come and sit with me while I receive my Chemo.  They are not always the same friends, they often switch from one time to another, but they are always awesome.  And while I want to spend time with them, gee, this is not how I envisioned that time.  Thanks cancer.
5. Every Monday, I get to spend 4-6 hours away from my kids...while at Chemo.  Thanks cancer.
6. I thought it would be cool if we could have one of those services that delivers your meals every day. Despite the fact that I am a stay-at-home mom mealtimes are always one of the most stressful times.  I am NOT a short-term planner - has never been a strong-suit with me.  So, I am constantly surprised when it turns 4pm and I should start "thinking" about dinner.  (Ha!  You should start cooking it, you moron!)  With boys who have allergies and a quirky daughter, bringing the Disney cafe to my kitchen has always been a fantasy of mine.  Now?  My wish has come true.  People bring us meals three times a week and they tend to be delicious and allergy-free.  And, I feel guilty as all get-out about their generosity and kindness.  Thanks cancer.
7. I am still a stay-at-home mom, but one who has A LOT less energy...especially when it comes to the "Can I have a snack?" "Can I have some water?" "Can I watch TV?  "What's for dinner?" "So-and-so stole my toy..."  "So-and-so won't move."  Ahhhhhh!  Now, my mom comes over almost every weekday and helps me out.  Which is SO appreciated.  But, the consequence - my poor mother probably now despises my children.  She hears every little whine, every bit of nagging, every awful fight, every nasty word.  I feel it is a major bummer for her.  But, me, essentially I now have a Nanny. Thanks cancer.
8. One of the biggest ironies to me in regards to what I like to refer to as "this whole thing" is that I have a small chest.  It's about to become smaller.  Thanks cancer.  But, in a strange, surreal twist, following the completion of "this whole thing", they would like to give me a new one.  And, they can make it (within reason) any size I'd like.  So, I can change my "nearly B" status (no seriously, the bras I used to purchase were actually called that.  No lie.) to a complete and total B.  Thanks cancer.
9. They have told me that there is a 50-50 chance for women with the Chemo I am on of going through menopause.  Thanks cancer.
10. For the most part, my stretch marks really don't bother me.  They are battle scars, war wounds, from having four children.  I love them, because, in some sense, they helped me to achieve these four prizes. But, occasionally, they bother me because, let's face it, they are ugly.  During the reconstruction process (still 1.5 years away), some or most of them may be "going away" as they are transferred to another area of my body, thus full-filling my dream of fitting properly into a bra.  Thanks cancer.

Yes, thank you, cancer.  In the future, when I have a fleeting wish fly through my head, I will be very careful to form that thought into something extremely more specific.  Be careful what you wish for!