Piggy Banks & Beers For Bryan
Throughout our journey thus far, Bryan and I have had to learn a lot of things. Among them, how to maneuver the maze that is Cedars-Sinai's underground Cancer Center. How to spell, pronounce and schedule taking ten different prescription drugs. We've even learned the names and phone numbers of all of the doctors, nurses, physician assistants, technicians and even appointment schedulers in the Radiation and Neuro Oncology Institute. However, one of the most important things we've learned – and this may come as a shock – is how to accept the help offered by our families and friends. To get our heads out of our tiny (Bryan) and not-so-tiny (me) asses and to say "yes, actually we do need some help right now. Thank you."
Bryan and I are incredibly independent people. We take care of ourselves, each other and (we'd like to think) our family and friends when they need it. We've always been there for other people when someone needs advice, a good laugh or even just a beer (in my case, a good glass of wine). It's hard to admit, but we've realized that even the "we do everything for ourselves" people need help sometimes.
You may recall a story I wrote about earlier involving our friend Catie, who, upon getting my "Bryan has a brain tumor" phone call, said "I'm coming over right now and I'm bringing dinner. And there's nothing you can do to stop me." She said the latter part because she knew that's exactly what, under normal circumstances, we would have tried to do. You see, in addition to being very independent, Bryan and I both have horrible guilt complexes. We LOVE to do things for other people, but have a really hard time accepting when people do things for us, no matter how small. We feel like it's a bother and we don't like to inconvenience people. But that night, as it has been on several others since then, we accepted the help. Because bottom line is, we needed it.
Anyone who has been through a serious disease or sickness (either personally or as the spouse) will relate to what I'm about to say. When your days are filled with doctor's appointments, radiation appointments (no matter how short they may be), meditation sessions and trips to the pharmacy to fill (read: wait at least 15 minutes for) prescription drugs, time FLIES. Actually, it doesn't fly so much as it just blurs. You're on such a schedule that, as our friends know, you're literally scheduling your meals around when you need to take pills. So you get to the point where you get home and look in your refrigerator at the end of the day and you're like, "wow, we have NO food, our apartment is a mess and we have piles of laundry." But you're too tired to go to the store. The idea of taking your laundry 20 feet out back to our unit's laundry room seems impossible. You're just WIPED OUT.
To add insult to injury (I promise this story takes a positive turn very soon), we're both unemployed. So as much as we might occasionally really want, or even need, to go out to a nice dinner and just relax for a bit, we really can't afford it. I went from a six-figure income to unemployment checks. Bryan went from, well, as Adam Carolla listeners know, an income that actually rivals unemployment checks. Either way, we're now faced with mounting medical bills, rent, utility bills, etc. While it's a very different reality, luckily both Bryan and I have been very, very diligent about saving money. So we're definitely not destitute, but there's no room for "discretionary" spending. For example, and this sounds funny, but the toll that going through cancer takes on your body almost mandates that you get a massage at least once a month, if not more. And our budget definitely does NOT scream "let's get a massage!"
This is where the piggy bank comes in. Our friends, refusing to take no for an answer, proactively planned a little get-together on Friday night called "Beers for Bryan." The idea behind "Beers for Bryan" was this: instead of going out to dinner or a bar and spending X amount of money, they would come over and put a little bit of money in the piggy bank (yes, there was an actual piggy bank). The money would go to help Bryan (and me, I guess) have some extra funds to do things like get a massage, go to dinner, etc. It was just a casual gathering at our friends' Jen, Matt & Lisa's
place, but it was great for us to be able to hang out and just enjoy
time with our friends.
Our friends must have been REALLY discreet, because to be frank, Bryan and I forgot about the piggy banks and just reveled in the fact that we were able to spend quality time with great friends. But, at the end of the night, we were handed said piggy bank. We shook it. Nothing moved inside. It was stuffed, to the brim, with bills. We couldn't believe it. I kept joking that there must be at least twenty $1 bills in there, but truth be told, there was a lot more than that. We were so exhausted that we didn't empty Mr. Piggy until the next morning. Bryan's fingers were too big to get the bills out, so I sat and pulled bill after bill after bill out. Then we started to cry. For goodness sake, is there going to be a day where we don't break into tears? At least these were tears of joy, and honestly, disbelief. We are so blessed to have the friends that we have in our lives. This is why I say they are not just friends; they are family. And if the situation was reversed, Bryan and I would there for them in a heartbeat. Probably before a heartbeat, actually.
So, thank you all again. You know who you are. We're off to work the kinks out.
