And I'm happy with it.

This does not, however, mean that I'm going to lose my addiction to anti-aging creams. Sheesh. As if. I'm in freakin' menopause right now. I need this addiction to continue apace otherwise I'm going to look more than thirty-seven, if you take my meaning. And that might just send all this birthday related happiness straight down the toity.

Anyway, every year, I try and muster up enough self-awareness to figure out just what I've learned over the preceding year, about myself and the world I live in, and the people with whom I share this planet. This means acknowledging the good and the bad about all of these things. I always hope there's more good than bad in the list, but sometimes that ain't always the case. This year, however, there is more good than bad. Surprisingly. Here's what I've learned for the school year 2006-2007, in no particular order:

• That when you're in pain, you should go to the doctor. No ifs ands or buts about it. Because Denial isn't just a river in Egypt.
• In some ways, I am stronger than I thought I was. I've had some rather nasty curveballs thrown at me this year, and even though I might have struck out on some of them, and, conversely, hit others out of the park, it turns out that, for the most part, I'm pretty happy with a decent base hit most of the time. That doesn't mean I wouldn't mind an intentional walk here or there, ya dig?
• In some ways, I am weaker than I thought I was. Physically speaking, I was surprised at just how weak my body became in the wake of the surgery and the chemo. I'd never been through that before, and I now know how fragile a thing good health can be. But what was really surprising to me were the minor irritants, like hot flashes and night sweats, and how I reacted to them. I sometimes sweat the small stuff. (Ha, ha, get it?) And I shouldn't. I should have a better sense of perspective and that is something I have to work on.
• If your veins roll, like mine do, do not under any circumstances let someone draw blood (stick an IV, or anything needle related) without telling them so. Even if they've already drawn blood from you a thousand times and you know their grandchildren's names. Remind them, otherwise you WILL have a bruise the size of Glacier National Park on your arm.
• The Discovery Channel---and all their other channels---is a wonderful thing.
• That confession is good for the soul.
• That Chuck Palahniuk gave me the tools to deal with baldness. Space Monkey, indeed. And if I ever meet Brad Pitt, I'm going to ask him to slap me on the head and say it.
• And while we're on the subject of hair loss, that, sometimes, it ain't that bad. Think of all the razor burn you're saving yourself when you go through chemo.
• That to have faith means extending some on occasion. Even if it's hard and goes against the grain to do so.
• That when someone presents you with a worst-case scenario, you should not act like Polyanna and pretend it will all turn out for the best. Do not ever lose hold of reality and live in La-La-Land because you think it's an easier, more comfortable residence for the time being. Leaving La-La Land generally means you land back in reality, flat on your ass, aching from the landing and wondering what the hell you did to deserve such ignominious treatment. It's easier to just stay in reality. And less painful, too.
• That learning to live with permanent unknowns is like sleeping with ghosts floating all around you. You will never know these ghosts, their stories or why they're haunting you. You simply have to come to terms with their presence. Acknowledge them, but don't spend too many nights, lying in bed, staring as they float over you. They will always be there. Get used to it. Roll over and fall asleep. It's all you can do.
• That smoking is very bad for your chest. And Mr. Osato believes in a healthy chest.
• That I've come a long way as a human being this past year, but I've still got a ways to go to be the human being I want to be.
• That some wounds go deeper than you ever thought possible. I can't have kids now. This slices so deeply that I'm not sure I'm really feeling the full extent of the pain. It's like the person with a deep cut, but who keeps saying to the ER people, "No, really, I'm fine. I don't feel a thing. Go help the other people. I can wait." I'm not dealing with this well. I know I'm not. And I don't want to deal with it. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want it mentioned in any way, shape or form. It's there and I simply have to learn to live with it. It's too painful to delve too deeply about. I wonder, sometimes, if I'm hampering my recovery by not dealing with it. Then I ruthlessly shove those thoughts aside, because I don't want to deal with it. I just do. not. want. to. deal. with. it. Because when I have to deal with it, when I can't avoid it anymore, it simply hurts too much. Maybe, at some point in the future, it won't and I'll be able to heal. I don't think that's going to happen any time in the near future, however, because I simply want to get on with things. I've spent enough time being sick this year that I don't want to waste any more on recovering from the nervous breakdown that's bound to happen if I let everything loose. I'll hold it in, until I feel I can't. That's all I can do for the time being.

  I sometimes feel a vicious anger toward God for what's happened. But then I always forgive Him. He's got his plan. I simply need to work on adapting myself to it. The fault is with me, not Him. There's a reason for everything; you just sometimes never know what that reason may be. It's less about figuring things out, than adapting to them. I'm less inclined to cut human beings the same amount of slack, however. Why this is, I have no idea. It just is. Anyone who hears my tale of woe decides on the spot that the best thing they can tell me that we "can always adopt" is bound to get, at the very least, a nasty look. As if this is the simple, elegant solution to this problem. One that will make everyone happy. That bees will again buzz, birds will fly, the air will be warm and kissed with sweet smelling breezes and all will be right with the world. It ain't the solution. For many and varied reasons. I've learned that most of the the people who tell me this, generally speaking, want to live in a world where there isn't injustice and pain and all manner of horrible things. They say these idiotic words not to make me feel better, but to make themselves feel better. As if, by saying them, they will restore balance to a world where crazy shit happens for no reason whatsoever. It doesn't work that way. Unfortunately. There are no simple, elegant solutions that restore balance to the universe. Ever.

• That you'll never appreciate your appetite so much as when you lose it. For days on end. Food is your friend. While food may bring as much pleasure as not, pleasure is not the main reason we eat. We eat to give our bodies energy to work properly. Nourishment, in other words, is the main reason we shove food down our gullets. I wonder sometimes if we haven't forgotten that bit.
• That while some people are asses, and can't help themselves from being so, they can also be so wonderful that you feel very humble when you reach the immeasurable depths of their kindness. I've been bathed in kindness this year. From people I know and love, and from complete strangers, as well. I feel blessed that I was able to experience it, because it kept me from becoming a hard-hearted-Harriet in the face of all that's been thrown at me.
• That "life is short, make the most of it," may be yet another annoying cliche, but it's like all other cliches---they're annoying because there's more than a grain of truth in them.

And that should about sum it up, my devoted Cake Eater readers. We'll just have to wait and see if year thirty-seven has as many interesting lessons to learn.

{insert wiggling of lush, fully grown-in eyebrows here}