Jester, by David Merrett on Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons

It’s April 1. I want to approach this date with the levity required, but I never manage. I began the day with the tired old “I’m pregnant!” gag – J saw right through it. I tried pranking the kids this morning, speaking only in Italian. Their typical response to any sort of prank is anger, and today was no exception. J made pancakes for breakfast, but that was hardly a prank, more of a special feature, since on our usual pancake day (Saturday) we’ll be prohibited from having them due to Passover.

I’m thinking fondly of Passover this year. Yom Kippur was not on my radar last year, since during my treatment I desperately avoided anything that might make me feel worse. But I’m thinking Passover offers lots of good opportunities. A chance to ponder freedom – from bondage (both ancient and modern), from drudgery (just got my first full month’s paycheck, which felt great), from disease (let’s hope). I’m trying very hard to correct my stress-driven lifestyle, by exercising much more, and eating better.

I’m also grateful to Pesach as a distraction from the endless wait. My next scan is on the 13th (13 has long been my lucky number). I’ll get results on the 15th – fittingly, the day that many people in the U.S. deal with a very different kind of reckoning (involving pain not in the body but in the wallet).

But in the meantime, I have a couple days off work, time with my family, time to do some exploration with the kids, and time to forget all about the leavening of daily life. I think that regardless of what comes later, this little interval is a win-win.

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