My body is one giant bruise. Ouchie to the touch! Even the passing by of a floofy cat tail across my shoulder elicits a flinch. I say this with honesty, it’s ok though. I catch my breath through the pain. I refer to the log from the last recovery period, and my brain quiets: these achy symptoms are par for the course. And they do not last forever.

I’m home, and we are halfway through the chemo cycles. My appetite is as erratic as a two-year-old's temper. My brain a bit soft at the edges, like that of a bubble floating past. My dreams alternate between nightmares and diary entries from a broken-hearted girl.

I say this meaningfully; it’s ok, though.

Why? Because this is the life I’m experiencing right now, and with its sharpness comes this opening of: who do I want to be, now? I have unexpected downtime to truly wonder. And I’m alive - even the pain reminds me of that.

Still, I jones for dopamine. Yesterday, I searched for it at the bottom of a cereal bowl. Today, I went to therapy. I’m adding an extra scoop of the good stuff on the ole brain by sharing some wisdom gathered from two sweet firecrackers named Heaven and Willa, plus a little lad known far and wide as Liam.

*Bad days in the hospital: I think of holding this girl, and my heart softens.*

Heaven

When I show up at my brother's house, bald and wearing a mask, the only apprehension I feel is: Will I scare the children? Something unknown and stark. Will they recognize me? Heaven pops in from the backyard, dressed in a bathing suit adorned with strawberries and ruffles. Seeing her is like eating a popsicle for the first time on the hottest day of summer. Her blonde ringlets bounce as she approaches me with zero hesitation. In the hubbub of arrivals, the dogs bark and the energy of chaos builds, and she clings to me as a safe space. The way she did before I had cancer. I feel like our hearts do all the recognizing, so there is no need to worry, “Will you know me?” Her grasp around my knee sas, “Duh, you’re my Auntie Meg. Always.”

Willa

Witnessing Willa's delight in her own reflection is teaching me something, yet I haven't formed words. I watch her expression of ‘Hey! That’s my friend!” when she catches herself in a reflective surface or on camera. I hold that pure self-love like a fragile artifact in my palm. Trying to remember the edges of my own inner child. We get lost somewhere along the way to adulthood. Forgetting that friendship and the sheer excitement of beholding oneself. With Willa in my life, I’m given this grand opportunity to protect how she sees herself now and relearn how to perceive my own reflection.

Liam

While we prepare the salad and pull the meatloaf from the stove, a little singing bird named Liam chirps ‘Na na na na naaaa” from the living room. He’s peeking over the back of the couch, clapping his hands. Adult talk and TV are swirling around in the background. I have a choice to get lost in thoughts of yesterday or tomorrow as I wash my hands. Instead, I call out to him from the sink, “na na na na naaaa,” and he perks up and immediately responds in kind. In that moment, we create a thread of ‘na na na na naaas’ between us, and nothing else exists. He anchors me in the present moment, and I feel so connected to another human being. A steadfast one-year-old who knows that sometimes all we need is to hear from and be heard by a friend.

With love, a nephew and nieces,

Auntie Nutmeg

Dopamine Fix: The Aunt Life

Honestly, mostly spinning

Cycle 3: Surrendering