Bonus Days

I do not believe in life after death, but, because of my recent intimacy with cancer, I have started to understand things quite differently than I had in life B.C. (or b.c.). I have come to think of everything that has happened in 2026 as a generous bonus.

If I hadn't had the opportunity to start treatment for this cancer in January, when the pain from the tumor on my sacrum was unbearable, I would very likely not be here to write this post. But science, insurance (Medicare), an enormous amount of support from my family (particularly Michael who helped me through the worst pain and the worst fears), a team of brilliant and dedicated doctors, extremely helpful and dedicated nurses, and my friends, have made it possible for me to experience extraordinary things during what I have come to understand are bonus days.

Come to think of it, every day is a bonus day.

Today I played a Bach prelude and part of a fugue on the piano, practiced some Brahms on the violin (I'm playing with a new pianist, and next Tuesday evening we're playing Brahms), practice some of the music I have written for violin and piano (this new pianist is interested in reading that too). It ain't Brahms, but what is except Brahms? I also played some Grieg on the piano, did some teaching, and talked with both of our kids and our grandchildren (who wished me a happy birthday today).

Michael and I read two chapters of Bleak House, mowed the lawn, and went out for dinner.

That I have a future is a gift.

That I can look forward to seeing our daughter and two granddaughters this weekend, and can look forward to the arrival (into the world) of another granddaughter next week is a gift.

That the treatment for this cancer has made it possible for me to walk every day, to practice every day, to read every day, to go to concerts and watch movies, to do work when necessary, and to do daily tasks (cooking, washing dishes, doing laundry, cleaning the house) is a gift.