Life Goes On 2026 Puppy Edition

There is nothing like a scary, rare diagnosis to help you understand that life is just a series of days and we need to live them as best we can. "Live without regret" has been my motto for a long time; I've always tried to make choices and engage in the world around me in a way that I can look back and feel good about. Before discovering the mass, I thought I was doing a pretty good job living this way, but then I realized there are still a lot of things I want to do before I die. 

One thing that was on the list until recently was to get a puppy. This decision seemed to walk the fine line between being an amazing idea or a very bad one, and I wasn’t sure how to decide. We got Shiro when she was already trained, and even that was a lot. Plus, we already have 4 animals. The people outnumber the pets with four; why in the world would we add a fifth? 

But, since Pink/Falcon went off to college with Momo, it feels like there just hasn't been enough boisterous energy in the house. Also, if you get one dog, then you gotta get a second one. Otherwise, the first one can only access half of their capacity for joy, which robs you of joy you didn't even know you needed. With two dogs, you have twice as much chance of having a dog who will fetch a ball and bring it to you. That's fun! 

Meet Louie. I luff Louie very much. So does Shiro. 

Should we have gotten a puppy just a few weeks before a major surgery that would keep me in the hospital for six days? Probably not. But, I’m on sabbatical and our breeder had the perfect fit for us. Also, I was in denial about having the surgery. 

Ultimately, I decided that every decision that brought a new soul into the house has added crazy, but it has also added a richness I didn’t even know was missing from my life. 

So, keep making the unexpected choices. Make your life more complicated. Do the thing you’ve been thinking about doing. Live!

Life Goes On 2026 Travel Edition

When you learn you have an unpredictable chronic disease, you have two choices: give up or keep living. So, I decided to keep living. Living doesn’t look like it used to. Some days I. Just. Can’t, and I spend most of those days as immobile as possible (I’ve finished a lot of novels since this all started). I give you: Life Goes On 2026 Travel Edition.

*****

Ren and I have wanted to take the kids to Europe for a while, but our first attempt at making that trip was thwarted by COVID-19. So, when Sky registered for a summer term in Prague, we decided to go visit. Of course, when we made this plan, we didn’t know about the giant mass in my chest. We decided to do it anyway. Why let a major surgery keep you down? Sitting in Europe is more fun than sitting in my living room, I reasoned.

By our July departure date, I was in better shape than before the surgery, if only because I was no longer coughing. But I wasn’t good enough to walk much, so I planned to spend most of the trip sitting in cafes while Ren and the kids explored. 

Things got off to a bumpy start. The second full day, I stepped into a hole in the middle of the sidewalk and fell flat on my face. Why there was a hole in the middle of the sidewalk with no warning signs, I can't tell you. But I discovered it when I was looking at my phone trying to figure out 1) where to find our rideshare driver, and 2) why they were sending a Prius. None of my family members saw me fall, but a German woman passing by felt strongly that I should go to the hospital (and she didn’t even know about the major thoracic surgery I’d just had). Ren and the kids mostly wanted to know why I was on the ground.

Since we had JUST arrived in Munich, I didn't want to cause a bigger scene than I already had when I dropped my suitcase, chucked my purse across the sidewalk (I fell HARD, you guys), and fell on my face. I rolled over and peeled myself off the ground. Surprisingly (and importantly), I did not seem to injure my recently surgerized thoracic region. I did, however, twist my ankle, skin my knee and elbow, and knock the wind out of myself. All things considered, I felt pretty lucky. 

Eventually, I convinced the kind passerby I was ok, and we tracked down the ride-share. The Prius driver asked why I requested a Prius when we clearly couldn't fit into a Prius. I asked the Prius driver why they sent a Prius when I asked for a ride for 6. By this time, my sternum was starting to hurt, but people were reaching the limit of what they could handle in a day, and we just needed to get to the hotel. We got the Prius canceled, caught our rideshare van (at an entirely different pickup location because of course it was), and made it to the hotel. 

Clearly Munich was messing with me because when we got there, they told me I had only reserved a room for four. Since our family has five people, I find that hard to believe, but I was ready to sleep on the couch in the lobby if it came down to it. The woman must have seen the desperation in my eyes because she worked some magic and found two rooms that would hold us all. 

When we got to our room, I told Ren I was pretty sure I'd broken my ribs. One way to find out: I lie down in bed. Yep. Broken.*** 

The next day I sent Ren and the kids out together; they lost one another--long story--and ended up coming back to the hotel in groups, but eventually everyone made it back. Days after that, I walked very, very slowly. And by our last stop, I was finally convinced maybe I should see a doctor, which I did in a tiny village in France. There, the doctor, who was busy ordering her lunch when I went in, spent 2 seconds looking at the X-ray before telling me I was fine. 

I mean, define fine. 

I paid 100 euros for that experience, and it was totally worth it. How often do you get an X-ray and a consultation for that price? I mean, she was wrong (which my thoracic surgeon confirmed later when she looked at the X-ray during a post-op follow-up appointment), but that's ok. 

*****

My takeaway from the Europe trip (other than don't step in a hole and face plant) is that the five of us should probably not travel together unless we are taking a tour. Too many cooks in the kitchen and all that. But life is short, so on Stow's fall break, we decided to take a road trip. He's driving now 🤯, and we took turns and made our way to the UP. I don't have any stories to tell because there were no injuries, we didn't get lost, and we had an all-around good time. But I DO have pictures, so here you go:

We couldn't have gotten luckier with the weather and the leaf colors. I'm glad we just keep living through our imperfections because sometimes we end up encountering something spectacular!

***If you have ever broken your ribs, you know what I mean. This wasn't my first rib-breaking rodeo. I fractured two ribs 25 years ago when I slipped while hiking. At least this time I only had to track down a van and get to a hotel. The first time, I had a four-mile hike down a mountain.