The Problem With Bucket Lists

A couple of years ago, a close friend of mine lost her good friend.  While on the phone with her and listening to her process everything and grieve, she told me her friend's death made her realize that every day is a gift, and that any day you are not doing, that you are not accomplishing, that you are not living to your fullest, is a day wasted- a day that you're not appreciating the great gift of life.  Something about what she was saying struck me as wrong at that time, but since she needed an empathetic ear right then and not a philosophical debate, I didn't pursue my train of thoughts.  In fact, I didn't really think about it again until this past February and March.  I revisited it because in this past February and March, I thought I was dying.

No joke.   I had been having serious radiating pains in the upper right quadrant of my entire shoulder/chest area, which was made even more looming and scary by the discovery of a lump in my breast.  A trip to the doctor confirmed it, which was disappointing, because to be very honest, I was hoping that she would just confirm the alternative suspicion that I had come up with, which was that I had finally gone off the deep end and was imagining things.   So when she nodded and said "Oh yes, I feel that." my heart sank.  Then she ordered blood work and a mammogram, and I was sent home, where I would sit and do battle with the abundance of crazy that lives in my head.

So then the blood work came back "funky" (quote from my doc).  Apparently I had too many red cells and not enough white.  Or maybe it was too many white and not enough red.  I don't remember- I couldn't focus above the buzzing that was sounding in my ears.  So she ordered more blood work while I sat home and continued to practice the art of "positive thinking".

(I don't know how positive thinking works for other people, but for me, when I'm scared, positive thinking just annoys the shit out of me.)

All this was made even more fun by the fact that either my doctor's office or the breast health clinic lost the referral for the mammogram, thus delaying the whole process by 2 and a half weeks.  (By the way, this happens all too often when I'm waiting for a referral.  I really do think there should be some kind of system in place where victims of such stupidity can exchange the mental torture they're enduring by inflicting some kind of physical torture on careless office staff.  At the very least this would improve the statistics of lost referrals, no?)

Anyway, during those two weeks I tried to just focus on the normal and go about my schedule.  I didn't really tell anyone about it, other than one or two friends.  And what I did tell them, I limited.  I didn't tell them how I was remembering that my aunt, who died of breast cancer 8 years ago, was diagnosed at my exact same age-37.  I also didn't tell them about the weird nightmares I was having, one in which I had a demon adhered to my back directly behind the spot where most of my pain was radiating from.  I dreamt that I tried to shake it off, but couldn't.  When I looked in the mirror to try to see it's face, I saw that it was dressed as a witch in a pointy hat, striped stockings, the works- and while it's face was blurred out, it was still clearly evil.  (It's okay if you want to laugh at that.... I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the world whose subconscious will costume a symbolic fear of cancer in an outfit that looks like it came out of the MGM wardrobe department, circa 1939)

Don't worry, I'm not announcing that I have any kind of cancer in this post.  When I finally got the mammogram it showed that I have cysts, no tumors.  I'll need to get mammograms every year to monitor their growth.  The pain actually turns out to be from a sprained scapula.  I can live with it or treat it with massages.  (I've let Mr. C know, but so far he hasn't volunteered any services).  And the weird blood work turned out to be because I'm anemic, which is nothing that iron pills won't fix.

So hallelujah!  I'm not going to die.  But during all that, I thought a lot about the conversation between me and my friend from a few years ago, and I was struck with what it was exactly that had bothered me. It's the idea that we should all be do, do, doing, plan,plan, planning, live, live, living every second of our life in order to enjoy it fully.   I found this paragraph from this site, and I think it illustrates the frame of mind to which I'm objecting to:

"If you don't live your days by personal goals and plans, chances are you spend most of your time caught up in a flurry of day to day activities.  Ever feel your days passing by without any tangible output to speak of?  What were your accomplishments in the last 3 months?  Look at the things you did and the things you're planning on doing next.  Do they mean anything to you if you are to die today?  Having a bucket list reminds you of what really is important so that you can act on them."

You know what?  In those few weeks that I was waiting for news from the doctor, I did some pretty good living.  I didn't go anywhere different.  I didn't take my longed for trip to Italy.  I didn't raise a million dollars for charity.  I didn't participate in a flash mob.  I just appreciated.  I enjoyed my children more.  I enjoyed my husband more.   I resented the housework a little less (not much, I've got a ways to go in that department).  The half hour that I spent sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee every morning became a blessed ritual.  I went out of my way more often for people.  I don't feel that living well should be defined necessarily by what you do, I think it should be defined by how you feel about your life.  I think sometimes people get caught up in the plan, plan, planning and do, do, doing without stopping to appreciate what's around them in the present.  Aren't you missing the point of making every second count if you are caught up in constantly planning what you're going to next check off your list?

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not saying to stay stagnant.  Planning and goal setting is important, but I don't think anyone should feel that they're somehow living less fully if they're not constantly striving towards a goal.   Sometimes just being is enough.  In fact, I'd argue that most of the time it is.

Someday I'll get to Italy.  And maybe someday something that I've written will get published (like a real writer!).  Maybe someday I'll even kung fu karate chop a random person in public, just for fun.  But if I died tomorrow without doing any of those things, I'm okay.  Despite what the author of the paragraph from the Excellence in Living page says, I don't need a bucket list to remind me of what is important.  I already know.  For me it's my people (that includes my family, friends, and you), and my relationship with God.  If I could add in a few extras in there, I'd include my books, my food, and my bed, in that order.

Ya'll thought I was going to say kettle chips, didn't you?  They're included in the food category, along with the wine.  So there.

You all have a good night.

*While I was writing this, I came across a blog called "Avery's Bucket List".  It's about a 5 month old with a rare disorder called SMA, or Spinal Muscular Atrophy.  Her parents are raising awareness of her disease while also gifting Avery with as many life experiences as they can in her short life.  My favorite thing about the blog is looking at the pictures- I love to see the joy on everyones face when they pose with her.  It's such a beautiful reminder that in heartbreak there's still so much goodness and learning to be had. 
Anyway, after reading it, I wasn't going to publish this post because I questioned whether my point would hold true for a family who is going to loose their baby to a mean disease.  I hope that I'm right in my decision to go ahead and publish this because in the end, I think we're both talking about the same thing- appreciating every moment and remembering what's important.  I'd encourage all of you to go ahead and read her story- there's sadness, but there's even more love.  And yes, tissues will likely be necessary.