Puddlejumping

Every autumn I think, let’s skip family pictures this year.

They’re a lot of work. And do I really need to see how many wrinkles and cellulite I’ve gained in the past twelve months?

Yeah, not so much.

But then I look at my giggling girls on the wall of our entryway. I think about how different they look this year.

And I remember how much fun we have with this great lady, someone I don’t see nearly often enough, who also happens to be a fantastic photographer.

Somehow Joanne can get my girls to do anything. And even when they don’t do what she asks, she accommodates her shots to fit their moods. She brings props, ladders, and toys. She hauls said props up and down ditches, hills, and playgrounds.

Then she says she loves it. That’s talent.

A couple of years ago we had almost postponed our shoot because of rain. I remember Joanne said to me, I have lots of umbrellas. We could just use the setting. It’d look great!

And I – the wuss that I am – said, No, I don’t want to get my hair wet.

Yes, I’m so proud of that.

That year, the rain let up at the last minute, and we all cheered.

But this year, when I was thinking about not doing family pictures, I remembered what Joanne had said back then.

And it made me kind of giddy.

What if the rain wasn’t plan B?

What if we planned on rain?

I told Joanne what I was thinking: this year, let’s not do the ‘practically perfect family pictures’ (since, let’s face it, we’ve never been that family anyways). I’ll leave those shots to the beautiful people. This year, we’ll go for umbrellas, raincoats, gum boots… and puddles.

For jumping, of course.

We still don’t know if there’s anything disastrous wrong with me. My family doctor wonders if the specialists are over-reacting, but he agrees that we should do all the tests anyways.

And hope they’re all negative.

The first of the tests did come back negative. There’s nothing wrong with my thyroid.

Great…and not great. Of the four, that was the easy one to do something about.

So, if anything is wrong, it will most likely be a bit more… involving than I’d hoped.

The next test results – the ones that suggest pituitary tumor – will be back on Monday. If those are high, I’ll likely need an endocrinologist. And, an MRI. Or CT scan. Or a host of other exciting adventures that I just can’t think about right now.

Or, maybe they’ll find nothing at all.

Wouldn’t that be something?

Maybe it just looks like rain.

But, if the doctors do find something wrong – and that’s a very strong possibility – maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

Maybe there’s a reason for it.

Maybe, like CML, it will actually make me more content with my life, not less.

Take puddles, for example. When we count on staying dry, puddles are a nuisance. When we expect to get wet, they’re almost …amusing.

Since we live in a place contending for wettest city on earth, we might as well learn to jump in puddles, not step around them.

And we might as well learn to love it.

So when I woke up this morning and thought, it looks like rain, I smiled.

Time to get our rain gear on, guys.

And, if the sun comes out, that’s not a bad plan B.