This afternoon, I thought, if only something would happen. And then I wondered if I’d lost my mind. After all, something could be something bad, and one should not resent the doldrums when they settle like stale air.
Boring is good! Boring means we don’t need to call an ambulance to rush a bleeding body to the emergency room. Boring means we don’t have to telephone a lawyer to find out exactly what to do with the jackpot.
Boring means I don’t need a new outfit and I won’t have to wear pantyhose and shoes that make the balls of my feet throb. Boring means the kids are all in their rooms, safe and sound, busily digesting and growing another inch before morning.
But when things are so boring, I have to dredge up material from the deep recesses of my mind and boy, things are kind of dusty in there. I find an old picture of my dad, the one I took the day he left on a sailboat to sail down the coast to California. Steroids prescribed to shrink his brain tumor had bloated his face, but he smiled with pure joy that day. Cancer had been his ticket out of a job he despised and he ate hot fudge sundaes and grabbed as much life as he could. Then he died four months after the diagnosis.
That photograph hangs in my hallway and tonight, while I held my crabby nap-free daughter, I saw my dad’s face looking in at me. He’s been gone since 1989 and I still can’t figure out what to do about that gaping vacancy he left. It’s unfillable.
After my dad died, I was absolutely convinced that I would be next. Nothing like stark terror to bring excitement to your twenties! I even found a breast lump, had a mammogram, followed by an ultrasound, resulting in a surgical biopsy.
That morning, the surgeon drew purple arrows on my skin, pointing to the spot. Next thing I knew, I was stretched onto the operating table, arms straight out, finger-clip catching the rhythm of my beating heart.
The sun shone into the room and upbeat music played while I laid exposed. The needle numbed me. I felt the tug of the knife, heard the sizzle as the wound was cauterized, smelled the burning, saw smoke. The doctor said, “Looks like a lipoma. Good.”
And so I didn’t die from cancer. It was nothing.
A few years later, when our twins were two, my husband’s voice started to sound scratchy. We had no health insurance, so he put off seeing a doctor, but finally, some church members insisted that he go. So, he did.
The first specialist assured him everything was fine. Rest the voice, he said. And so my husband was mute for a week. When he didn’t improve, he saw a second specialist. This doctor told him the growth on his larynx needed to be removed, but that it was probably nothing.
We drove to Midland, Michigan, for the surgery. A friend cared for our boys while I sat in the waiting room. Afterward, the doctor met with me and assured me, “You have a greater chance of being hit by lightening on the way home than of that being cancer. But we’ll send it to the lab for a biopsy anyway. One chance in a ten thousand,” he said.
And so, a few weeks later, we were shocked when it turned out to be cancer. Cancer? Laryngeal cancer threatened to steal his voice. He went back into surgery so the doctor could make sure he got it all.
And weirdly enough, that was that. All of his follow-up visits showed no sign of cancer. We hardly even remember that terrible chapter in our lives.
The thing is, boring can turn into catastrophe in twenty minutes or less. And when things are dull, life is good.
You heard it here first.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
You remind me of my father’s death four and half years ago.
I miss him.
I am so grateful the last time I saw him awake and not hooked up to tubes and machines, that I hugged him and told him ‘I Love You’.
Yes, when things are dull, life is good.
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Oh wow, do I totally agree with that last sentence. Your posts are SO good. Thank you so much for writing.
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So very true.
I’m addicted to boring. I MUST have it.
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When you have kids, boring is always good. Maybe not to them, but for Mom, it’s a blessing from heaven!
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My mom also died from a brain tumor. She only lived 5 weeks after diagnosis. I know what you mean about worrying about one’s own health after that happens.
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My boss (and good friend) just went in for another regularly scheduled scan following his 2nd bout with lymphoma two years ago–one that required a stem cell transplant in Seattle. We haven’t heard the results yet, but if this one is clear, he’ll likely stay clear. Boring is good.
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We are craving dull right now big time! Emergency surgery and the fire in our truck is enough for us 🙂
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My dad died of cancer, too, and I have to admit that death by cancer is probably my number one fear. I was a wreck last year when I had to have precancerous cells removed from my cervix. My imagination went bonkers.
I’ll never look at boredom the same.
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I understand your fears. My dad, too, died of cancer. It has been almost 12 years now. He has left a huge void, and I am sorry to say that it really hasn’t been filled. Business keeps me from thinking about it all the time, but there are times in my life, like right now, that I miss him so much I sob.
I also am terrified of cancer. I analyze every lump, bump or illness in cancer terms. Once it enters your life, that nasty intruder takes away your innocence.
Yes, dull is good.
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I had one of those “99.9% chance it’s not cancer” moments with my ex-husband. Turned out the docs were wrong and that thing they pulled out of his head was a high grade malignancy. But that was 12 years ago, and he’s still kicking. And the doctor told me there was nothing to worry about when I was pregnant the fourth time, but I knew better. Sometimes I fear the boredom, like the calm before the chaos, but that’s the ride we’re on. No guarantees. By the way, if I could give up my “father” so somebody could have their good one back, I would.
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Wow-you said what I have been thinking the past few weeks. Hubby was whining that things were kind of boring here and all I could think of is the years of infertility, the joy of becoming parents, the ups and downs of parenting, the loss of all of our parents, the near death infection he developed after a surgery and about a million other “exciting” things and believe me, I will take boring any day!
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Glad those cancer scares turned out okay. Those stories remind me of when my doctor ‘felt’ something on my ovaries. My first thought was: ‘so this is how I’m going to die.’ It turned out to be blessedly nothing. I’ll take that kind of boring any day!
(Any fan of boring has got to love this poem by Wendy Cope: http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/1444.html)
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SO TRUE!!!
That was the big lesson I learned when moving from NYC to the NJ burbs. After three months of total bordom, I suddenly realized:
BORDOM IS PEACEFUL!
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I am perfectly fine with there being nothing going on. There was a time when I was all about excitment. But, that was before the definition of excitment changed.
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No cancers but my mom has suffered from fibromyalgia and deep vein thrombosis for several years now. Since turning 65 last year (shh, don’t tell her I told you) she has developed some minor, but nagging ailments. The conditions, so far, are all controllable with medication and life style alterations and modifications. She is however, in pain much of the day and while never having been an UP person, is growing increasingly darker. I could use a mug of boring right about now.
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yea! I found you. Glad to hear things are boring now. :o)
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boring is good
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I lost my mom to colon cancer in 1989…I know what you mean. Right after we became Christians my husband had to have a kidney removed. We went thru a very dark period at that time, too, but the Lord saw us thru with “flying colors”. Life when boring is very, very good. Amen and Amen.
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Two years ago, my Mr. Right had moles removed, tested and diagnosed as the worse cancer a mole could contain, Melanoma. Couple this discovery with this statement “Although the incidence of melanoma is lower than other types of skin cancer, it has the highest death rate and is responsible for 79 percent of all deaths from skin cancer,” you could see why I was worried.
Do you want to take a gander at how often I was praying for a change? Not just me, but the church, friends, family.
When he went back in, the specialist was amazed. After rerunning the tests a third time, the moles weren’t just benign, they were shown to be healthy with not a hint of cancer at all. So not only did God remove the cancer, He took away any insurance worries that would have been left on a record.
I’ll take a dull moment any time, but I’ll take a miracle too.
It gives me something to blog about.
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Yes! Life when boring is good! I hear you, for sure.
Excellent post… man, the blogosphere is filled with talent. 🙂
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I long for the good old days, blissfull days, cancer free days. Boring is great!
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I’m still recovering from my non-boring morning. I’ll blog about it later, but it’s nothing life threatening. Sometimes boring means no poop on the walls. Ugh!
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I’m here!!! (Stupid computers).
Where I work we hang people for using the Q word (quiet). It jinxes us every time!
Have a wonderful day on your wonderful new site.
~K!
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This post did hit a chord with me.
My mother has just been diagnosed with “cancerous cells” in a lump she found under her breast after docs assuring her the lump was not cancerous. Whats wrong with these docs? I would rather hear an “i dont know” than ” its not cancer, dont worry” only to find out a week or two later that it is! Anyway, no point in being angry at the docs.
I also watched my best friend die of bone cancer at age 20, one that “rarely” strikes adults.
Its a horrible horrible disease, and Im worried about whats to come.
My grandfather had cancer of the larnyx. Its wonderful that your husband is fine now.
Anyway,
Congrats on your new website. You are a sincerely great writer!
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Just as long as you’re not saying that my life is bad. 😉
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Yes, boring is good.
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