Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute? – Emily, from Our Town by Thornton Wilder

having nearly lost my mother twice before i was in college, i’ve always been a sort of carpe diem kind of gal, though there are plenty of diems i wished i’d carpe‘d and didn’t. days, weeks, months, years pass; and sometimes, i miss things. i forget things. it’s probably the main reason i write in a blog. i want to remember things – crazy things people say to me, funny moments with my family, that sort of thing. i may be one of the snarkiest people you’ll meet, but when you get up close, you find i am a giant mushball crybaby. especially on days when i have to face up to things like my mortality.

the good news, of course, is that there’s a treatment, IVIG, for my CVID. the infectious diseases doctor who is able to get me IVIG and who is graciously willing to take me on as a patient as a courtesy to my wonderful hematologist (and don’t think i don’t know that this life has me feeling like a professional patient who collects doctors like my kids collect Pez dispensers) has really moved the proverbial ball forward. the company that provides the IVIG has been contacting me today, getting health and insurance-related information from me. i am astonished at their efficiency; and i am wildly, wildly grateful that i possess solid health insurance that will allow me to do this life-saving activity without bankrupting my family. oh, i wish my family knew how grateful i am to each and every one of them. and they never really will.

when i push beyond the gratitude, i find i have to face up to this ridiculous fury i possess. it’s pointless, really, to be angry about something over which you have absolutely no control. i mean, i can be mad at myself for being fat. i can be mad at myself for not being kinder to people in my life. i can even be mad at myself for falling on the ice and ripping up my knee (though that, of course, was unintentional.) but i didn’t do this to myself. i didn’t cause my immune system to not be strong. hey. i drink my green tea. i eat my veggies. i even was exercising to make myself strong. but my genes? they just are what they are.

when i was a little girl, my mother instilled a mantra in my head, a mantra she still tells me, a mantra i have carefully taught my children. she always told me that she loved me no matter what. and of course, i love my children no matter what.

i guess this is the point where i have to look at myself and tell myself that i love myself no matter what.

tonight, i put on van morrison; and as he sang have i told you lately, i danced with my children. BC, of course, snuggled in my arms as she tried to lead while we danced (she’s just like her mom). and jools grabbed his blanket, danced with us in a big hug for about 10 seconds, then started to do his crazy pee wee herman meets david lee roth maneuver. i didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. of course, though, i knew at the end of the song, when poor BC had damp hair, i’d become a mushball mom again. and it was ok. “i love you, mama,” BC said as she looked up at me and smiled.

i guess if she can love me, so can i.