|The Burger King|
Now however, it seems my birthdays are officially sponsored by the American Cancer Society.
No special birthday letter, no vouchers for free stuff (would I really want ACS swag anyway?), instead just a winsome melody from the likes of Harry Connick Junior, a heartfelt bleating by Justin Bieber or even a comedic message from Jack Black. All with faces that say "Aw, it's your birthday and you have cancer. Poor you." Gosh, I can't wait. (Editors Note: In case my facetiousness is not clear here, I don't want a special ACS-branded message for my birthday thanks!)
I'll be starting my day off right with a celebratory hit of chemotherapy. Perhaps I'll yell out "chemo for everyone!" and we'll pull up our IV poles, gather around my Lazy-Boy chair in the Lazy-Boy-Showroom-From-Hell, and sing a stirring rendition of Happy Birthday to me. (Proudly brought to you by the American Cancer Society).
I guess turning "41" generally passes without fanfare, a bit like "14", "23" and "32", plus all those other ages in between. It's not really a milestone birthday like "1", "13", "16", "18", "21", "30" and then the BIG 4-0. But "41" is a gentle reminder to start fielding jokes about getting old and complaining about turning "50" all too soon. Middle age beckons!
I've begun to count birthdays. Seven birthdays since original diagnosis, four birthdays since a serious bump in the road, and two birthdays since we encountered a major pothole. Perhaps my turning "41" might be a considered a milestone of sorts by the statisticians, but I think I'd just as soon as not consider turning "41" a milestone, thank you very much.
I'd also love to start complaining about turning "50" and the onset of middle age.
And I'd also prefer my birthday wasn't an event worthy of sponsorship by a cancer organization, unless of course it involves a free hamburger.
Happy Birthday to me!
|My 2nd Birthday!|
|My 4th Birthday. |
Love my outfit!