If you tell me you’re not one for celebrating your birthday, strong umbrage will be taken. With all the passion I put towards causes and injustices in this world, the hill I will 100% die on is that birthdays are to be recognized, indulged in, and honored. This is not a new YOLO cancer edge-of-dying perspective. This is a rant I’ve been armed for since the dawn of my consciousness when birthday parties included Little Caeser’s square party pizza, 2-liter bottles of fully leaded soda, and sleepovers with board games and late-night, no-sleep hypnosis sessions.

Sure, now I have the added drama of feeling deeply how much of a miracle it is to survive another year, the respect for aging, the thrill of a new wrinkle marking time, a reflection of character earned. No anti-wrinkle creams here (coconut oil works just as well anyway - I’m as fresh-faced as a baby with plenty of popsicles and book money to spare). My go-to salutation to you on your birthday will dependably be “The happiest of birthdays! I hope you spend it basking in all your favorite people, activities, and foods. You are SO loved!” This is the heart of what I wish for all of us on our days of importance; rituals of acknowledgment for the grace in our lives that carried us here.

It doesn’t have to be surprise parties, balloons, a month of fancy dinners, and Vegas trips - but it can be if it pleases you. No judgment here. No one has to know if subtlety and humility make you resist celebrations of self. Play hooky from work, get an ice cream cone and watch the Sopranos. Go for a run in the woods, take a nap, buy those shoes you’ve been jonesing for, go to the movies, or go on a long drive. This only works if you remember who you are and what you love. Dreaming of this day is part of the exercise. It’s easy to forget to alchemize your likes into the need-to’s of those you share a house with instead of mining for your own delight.

It also doesn’t have to be your birthday to delight in your life. Do you remember that you’re an adult and get to do whatever the heck you want to do? Create a little ritual around the new moon or check every day what obscure holiday it is and find ways to observe it with playful fervor. Mark significant dates and create an anniversary for them that includes their own ritual of activities. Life is supposed to be fun. Yeah, it’s hard and weird, sad and scary, and a whole host of other things - BUT it can ALSO be fun while it’s those things. Like cats and proper pizza places, the fun will rarely come to you. It’s your responsibility to create, foster, and be disciplined in designing your days to include it.

Today marks 30-days cancer free since my transplant. October 7th is a new date on the calendar that I observe as my rebirth day. Thirty days isn’t long, but it is significant. Nineteen days after my last transplant, my stomach began to swell. The vision went out in my left eye. I had debilitating headaches. Thirty days after CAR-T, what I expected would be my cure, I was told the cancer is likely back. Making it to 30 days is one of many milestones I plan to acknowledge as I manage my slow recovery.

I have all the signs I’m fusing with my donor: fatigue, chronic itching, and diarrhea. These symptoms are welcome and demanding. They demand I do what I am always working toward anyway, to be mindful of everything I consume, to honor and accept what I’m capable of in a day, to surrender to my higher power (and to the couch) on the really difficult days. Limited to staying home, to isolating myself with a mask, and with distance from the people and activities that energize me, that is my flavor of fun, I’m forced to decide. What can fun be here, now, feeling like this? Assuming the luxury that time is not a guarantee, waiting to play until I feel better would be a waste of living. I must find my way to joy here. Now. In the pain and discomfort.

Thank you buttload of pills for keeping me alive and healthy.

The 30 days of being a cancer-free celebration so far has included a wintery walk outside by myself, complimenting the trees on how fabulous their bones look. I took an epsom salt bath with candles and thanked each body part as I lathered it with a thick lotion. I wore a Christmas-themed robe and slippers for hours afterward. I wrote a letter to a friend, reaching out in video to more girlfriends, and I’m writing this. Tonight, I’m joining a Zazen practice via Zoom followed by a Dharma talk at Prairiewoods, a Franciscan retreat center a few miles down the road. Ahh, what a beautiful day - even as my booty is sore from taking the necessary rest this body requires, there is play to be had.

Upcoming Milestones to celebrate:

November 11th. Veteran’s Day. I’ll reach out to my military friends, and we’ll share the same stories about digging foxholes in the peak of day in August in Missouri and eating so much commissary pizza we had to help one another get our pants zipped for inspection.

November 15th. Guacamole Day. This should be celebrated daily.

December 18th, my 42nd birthday. There will be pastry.

January 15th. 100-days. This would be my longest remission and when I have my first post-transplant PET scan and bone marrow biopsy to see if I’m still cancer-free. It’s also when my isolation guidelines are reduced. There will be a party. There will be pastry.

What and how are you celebrating being alive today?

You’re alive. Act like it.

What I wish others knew about cancer.

The death of a friend.