Winter is fast approaching in Aesop’s fable, The Ant and the Grasshopper. The ant is diligently preparing for a brutal season as the grasshopper whiles away his time making music and dancing without a care in the world. When the freeze comes the ant surely will have no worries. His stockpile will carry him through the season. The grasshopper, meanwhile, will be pained by hunger and filled with regret that he had not prepared himself for harsh times.
I am the ant and winter is always on my mind. The sun can shine, the heat rise. It matters not that the leaves are full and green. In my head, the freeze is always around the corner and I must prepare for what may come. I never stop thinking about winter.
A year and a half after a softball sized tumor was removed from my left hip I received a phone call alerting me to its recurrence. It was evening. The sun had almost set. When I answered the phone the only light near me was the faint halo of dusk coming from my bedroom window. The news stunned me. The only words I could muster, well that’s unfortunate.
Until that moment it hadn’t really occurred to me that this tumor would ever come back. I had been told I would be able to get on with life after that surgery. It would be just like before. Perhaps it was ignorance speaking or mere hope, but it was wrong. Once you’re diagnosed with a desmoid tumor it’s never going to be like it was before.
Even before oral chemo killed the tumor that recurred I was thinking about next time. Winter is always on my mind. I’ve been blindsided before. Like the grasshopper, I’ve been filled with regret for not considering what may come.
My latest MRI did show some increased cell activity in my large tumor and, while the tumor has not yet grown larger, I’m mentally preparing for recurrence. I am the ant and winter is always on my mind. Winter will not come for me every year, but I no longer have the luxury of not preparing for its return.
A treatment plan is already in place with my new oncologist, should the next MRI show tumor growth. I’ve found an endocrinologist familiar with this particular oral chemo who will monitor my thyroid hormone dose closely and hopefully prevent the crippling hormonal crashes and spikes I endured when treatment ended last year. We’re financially prepared for the astronomical expense of those little red pills.
I can plan my homeschool year ahead, at least give myself an outline of what I want to accomplish, so the few good hours I will have a day can be spent teaching instead of planning. I can write a few blog posts and stick them in the queue for days when chemo robs my brain of the right words. I can stock the pantry and the freezer so meals are readily available when energy is not.
Being the ant is the right thing to do. Being the ant is smart. We should all have a plan for what may come. You have to be prepared as possible for any event that may call for you to batten down the hatches and hibernate for a season.
But what about that grasshopper and his music and dancing? Shouldn’t frivolity and joy be just as important as the backbreaking work when preparing for hard times? I always knew being the ant was smart, but I never understood that being the grasshopper was imperative until I got sick.
Since I got my latest MRI results I’ve let my head get hijacked by thoughts of preparation and the possibility of a harsh winter. Every now and again I have to remind myself to take a breath. What may come may not even come and even if it does, I can’t let my good days be consumed by thoughts of it. That is, often times, easier said than done, but that’s all the more reason to remind myself to practice.
Winter may be coming. Who knows? That’s the perplexing frustration of the desmoid tumor, but I’m as prepared as any good ant could be. Sometimes I get lost in the role of ant, feeling as though that job is more important. The laughter is important, too. The laughter, the music, the dancing. They cannot be forgotten.
I am the ant and winter is always on my mind. Being the ant is the right thing to do. Being the ant is smart. The season may be brutal. But I have to be the grasshopper too. I can’t forget to be the grasshopper. The music and the dancing are important just the same. As the moral goes, there is nothing that hurts more than being pained with hunger and filled with regret because you didn’t prepare for what may come.
I believe that being the grasshopper is as important as being the ant. No matter what anyone’s situation is, you should celebrate today because no one is guaranteed a tomorrow.
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I’m trying to be more grasshopper, grasshopper.
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That’s totally how I see you
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Your blog just screams “Grasshopper!”
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I can think of a dozen thing this blog screams. Funny, grasshopper wasn’t one of them. Hahahaha!!!
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As I get into my sixties, it is becoming apparent that stress is a luxury I cant afford. Not sure I ever could, but the karma comes quicker when you are aging .. or sick. So I would say, be grasshopper-like in our ant-hood.
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Agreed.
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I love what Phil said above. I think celebrating, dancing, and joy are as important as planning ahead because we have to find joy in each day, especially in the winter when it’s harder to find it.
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Don’t compliment Phil. His head will swell.
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I completely understand the mindset of the ant and my God, you have all of the bases covered, it seems. Because you’ve been through it before. I hate that you can’t have piece of mind. I sort of have that situation in another aspect of my life-I call it waiting for the other shoe to drop but maybe I should substitute your ant/grasshopper moral analogy. I hope you’re well prepared for something that never happens and spend the winters dancing in your kitchen. Or wherever. Dance and sing wherever you want, Grasshopper. Wax on, Wax off. Wait. Wrong story. And this probably isn’t the time to start cracking GOT jokes either, but I did just picture an army of White Walker grasshoppers cresting the far horizon and it was kind of funny. If you’ve never seen a white grasshopper with blue eyes, you should.
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I’m all for jokes, but I don’t get the GOT ones. I am possibly the only person on earth that hasn’t seen even one episode.
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I didn’t either! You’re not alone!
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Yay! I’m not alone!
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Ah. Well that one’s going to fall flat then. Think an army of white zombie grasshoppers with piercing blue eyes cresting over the frozen horizon. Because Winter is coming. Or even better, don’t, you’ve been through enough. Have a nice cup of cocoa and carry on.
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I am definitely the ant, but I have my grasshopper moments (they usually involve wine). My thoughts are with you—I can’t imagine the emotional and spiritual toll of all that waiting and not knowing. But while you’re planning lessons and meals, plan yourself a little joy, too. ❤️
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I’m trying like hell.
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[…] Source: What May Come […]
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Yes! What Phil said! Oh, screw the ant! Wait, maybe not completely… Maybe you could shoot for a sorta nice balance. Don’t cut out fun times altogether, right? And when you have ’em, don’t feel guilty like you ‘should’ be… canning ‘n’ freezing shit. I mean, I know by now you’re kind of a Nervous Nellie – WITH CAUSE, i understand that damn tumour hanging over your head. I mean… hip. Question – can’t they take the whole damn thing out?
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Again, stop complimenting Phil! He’ll be incorrigible now!
They did take the tumor out and now I have two that replaced it. The problem with desmoids is that surgery usually makes the problem worse and that’s why it’s often a last resort if nothing else works.
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Oh crapola! 😦 Crossing fingers ‘n’ toes for you that the damn thing decides to fizzle out on its own!
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Instead of berating yourself for being neither grasshopper or ant enough, try being a bee for a while. Dance to communicate, enjoy your honey and lord it up over your drones.
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Not berating, just trying to always seek a balance. And I dance like Elaine from Seinfeld. It’s not pretty. Lol!
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I don’t want to compliment Phil, so I’ll just agree with everyone above.
Maybe you should dress up like a grasshopper for halloween!?
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Lol!
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Much love to you, my friend. ❤
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Thank you. ❤️
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