Relative Normal

Ken had a follow-up doctor's appointment on Friday. He looks good, feels good, is back to work, and feels like his old self. The doctor wanted numbers and pictures for confirmation. The lab drew blood and radiology took a chest x-ray.

Yesterday the doctor called with the results: everything looks normal. Hallelujah.

So Ken is back to normal. Meanwhile, my context for normal has changed and I no longer have a reference point.

Normal is relative. If there is something to compare it to, then you know. If you're in new territory, then it's hard to tell where you are on the scale. Sometimes it's hard to know where to even begin.

In one of the last shows in the last season of the television show West Wing Timothy Busfield's character, Danny, is anxious to plan a future with Allison Janney's character, CJ. She has worked in the White House for eight years, and her life has been too full for a serious relationship. Danny, who was a reporter, has courted her for years and sees his chance to build a life with this woman he cares about deeply. CJ wants to plan it all out ahead of time, but that's not possible because life as she knows it is coming to an end and the future is uncertain. Danny knows this and is ready to make changes in his own life. What he says to CJ makes me weak in the knees: he says he wants to talk to her, he wants to hear her voice, he wants them to make decisions together about what their lives will be.

I know how CJ feels. She wants to know what the consequences of her decisions will be. She wants to play out each scenario and analyze it. She wants answers.

Danny wants to be with her regardless of where they are or what they decide to do.

I want to figure out what the future holds. I want charts and graphs and numbers. I want to list every option and talk about possible consequences and make decisions based on the odds of success.

Ken wants to make plans to go to dinner.

Ken and I haven't had practice with this. The last time we were alone together we were young, in our twenties. We didn't have a five-year plan, or a one-year plan for that matter...and it all worked out fine. We made decisions as needed, based on the information and resources we had at the time. We considered our options and made the best choice possible. Then we moved on. We made it work.

It felt like there would always be enough time.

Life is different now in some ways but not in the ways that matter. Ken and I are still together and we still like each other.

Time has passed. Time will continue to pass. It doesn't make sense to use time worrying about what might, or might not, happen.

It makes sense to start with plans for dinner. I am learning....