Back in the old days it was customary for a lady to have a dance card in which to write down the names of those gentlemen brave enough to request a dance. In modern times we’ve ditched the dance card in exchange for a ‘calendar’, ‘day runner’, etc but have held on to the phrase ‘dance card’.
Most days my ‘dance card’ was fairly empty and mainly consisted of keeping tabs on my daughter’s dance schedule, important school dates and the occasional doctor’s appointments. Each day flowing into the next like little waves gently breaking against the lakeshore, none more eventful then the one before it. That was until a single, unexpected word was dropped into my daily vocabulary and that one word took my dance card from bare to bursting. Cancer.
Its not a new word; I’ve heard it many times in life being used for other people. You see, those people get cancer, not me. Cancer doesn’t run in my family, so that meant I was safe. Right? No need to fret over a silly mammogram, no need to return all those phone calls from the hospital urging me to contact them. Why should I? I showed up for my appointment, paid my co-pay; I’m done until next year rolls around. Right?
Wrong. Oops…maybe it isn’t just those people that get cancer.
Its funny, I always thought it would be fun to be one of the popular girls, you know, the kind that date doctors and have fabulous lives? Well I have lots of doctors on my dance card but all they seem to want to see is my insurance card LOL Where’s the glamor in that? Welcome to the new side adventure of Firestorm’s Follies… There will still be crafting posts, but for now, my focus has shifted as I try to take in and process this new world.