“I want to go to New York for Christmas,” my youngest announced.
Erin and I have been talking about gifting our boys more experiential things for the holidays, as opposed to more stuff. This year, we finally did it. We have been planning a trip to New York City for Christmas for months. It’s been a lot of fun for us to put this together, all while dropping little clues and hints here and there for months now. Commenting on scenes in famous New York locales, like the Oculus in one of the John Wick movies.
When my youngest made his Christmas in NYC declaration, I jumped for joy inside of my head. If you only you knew, son…
One of the first things that came to mind, once I got my diagnosis, was this trip. The plane and Broadway tickets had already been purchased. I LOVE New York. Was I going to be able to go?
A month after my initial diagnosis, I met with my medical oncologist (the chemo doc), and brought up my quickly-nearing trip. The trip was coinciding with the steepest, quickest rise in Covid cases ever, with NY leading the charge. Would it be too risky? If I got Covid in NYC, would it mess up my treatment timeline?
Initially, the doctor said maybe I shouldn’t, with my treatments set to start within weeks. After some further discussion, she changed her mind. It would be good for my mental health. Once daily radiation starts (and the potential side effects), I wouldn’t be able to travel for months. I might not even want to.
I must admit I was very anxious about the trip. I’ve had a breakthrough infection and it wasn’t fun. Even though I had a booster vaccination two days after my cancer diagnosis, there seemed to be breakthrough cases everywhere. If Covid knocked me off of my treatment schedule, would that make my treatments too little, too late?
The thought that I could die from cancer crossed my mind, too. Was this my last chance at taking this trip? What if I could make this an unforgettable experience for my kids?
The morning of Christmas Eve, my son opened an over-sized boy stuffed with extraneous tissue and other fillers and find a crappy Empire Building fridge magnet. We had made up some flimsy excuse to celebrate one day early, so that we could travel on Christmas Day. They looked at this little magnet, and then each other, with a puzzled look on their faces. Then my oldest figured it out.
We were going to New York City. On Christmas. I had chosen to make this an epic trip to the Big Apple, an unforgettable experience. A trip, that if it were to be my last, would be worthy of that shit distinction.
None of us are guaranteed a tomorrow. So, we went for it.