BIRTHDAY 2.0
Three years ago today I received what I can only describe as a second chance at life. It wasn’t a particularly graceful act, as I sat with my mouth affixed to an emesis bag like an elephant impersonator. A bouquet of helium balloons hung nervously in the corner, standing vigil over me along with three nurses and my parents.
What should have taken 15 minutes took about an hour as my stomach protested with every infusion of my own cells. As each bag emptied into my chest, my stomach emptied into the bag, only worsened by the fact that the room had slowly begun to smell like creamed corn. A side-effect from the infusion’s preservative escaping from my pores, something I was quickly wishing I could do as well.
Once I had stabilized, and the final bag of cells cleared the IV, the nurses wished me a “Happy Birthday.”
I smiled politely, yet didn’t understand why I was getting a second birthday. I hardly enjoyed the concept of my first one. Now I had two reminders that I was getting older?
The nurses left me and my parents alone. A mix of relief, terror, and exhaustion settling in every corner of the room.
As we sat there in a silence only broken by the beep of my pulse, I told myself I probably wouldn’t celebrate a Birthday 2.0.
I told myself this before I fully realized that without this particular day in the hospital, I wouldn’t need any further reminders that I was getting older. My marrow so depleted from the high-dose chemo, it would be unable to produce the stem cells needed to bring me back from the dangerous numbers I was about to plummet to.
I told myself this before I thought about the shift in my birthday wishes over the past year. I had gone from wishing for major career success as I blew out my birthday candles to wishing for another day. One more birthday. The smoke from the extinguished candle now heavier as it curled into the air, carrying my wish for survival away towards whoever is in in charge of approving birthday wishes these days.
It was then that I decided, yes, I will acknowledge my second birthday. That I would give it the space it deserves, as a reminder that my latest wish has been granted. (And as a way to quiet any inner voices that may protest more birthday cake…because, to quote Marie Antoinette, “I friggin love cake.”)
Life is a collection of experiences that are either chosen or thrust upon us, each one shaping us into whichever version of ourselves remains at the end.
I was going to advise not waiting until you realize that you may not have one more day before you celebrate even the seemingly insignificant moments of this life. But I think it takes remembering exactly that for us to appreciate and celebrate the importance of each one.
So as I’ve said before, have that slice of cake (really unfortunate Ms. Antoinette was at the forefront of cake PR). Tell those you care about exactly that. Celebrate one more day on this rare marble.