A household with cancer is not a normal household. (If there is such a thing.) Life changes completely at the moment of diagnosis. Then again, there are parts of life that remain exactly the same. The trash must still go out with regularity to avoid malodorous household experiences. The dishes still collect in the sink. Pets still need to be fed. Groceries must still be bought and put away. Report cards and permission slips must still be signed and returned to school. Dinner must still be cooked, and the laundry must still be washed.
Normal as they are, these things suddenly possess a constant new presence that can make them foreign or absurd. Yet there is something comforting in their mundaneness. There is a reminder of a simpler life, of before and normal, and a glimmer of hope for simplicity’s return.
I found comfort somewhat elusive in the first year of my husband’s journey with cancer. One place, however, where I regularly found great comfort was the local laundromat. Life at the Fluff ‘n’ Fold was generally warm, soft, clean, and neatly folded. In the midst of chaos, this was an enormous solace.
The first time I heard the word adeno-carcinoma, my life was unceremoniously dumped into the Spin Cycle and turned on high. I felt as though someone had hurled me into the industrial large load machine, popped in a roll of quarters and walked away.
Amidst the chaos in my mind and soul, the luff ‘n’ Fold became my oasis, a place of comfort and renewal. Each Wednesday I’d pack up my baskets, lug them to the car, drive to town, carry the baskets inside and fill the machines, fumble with quarters, and let the powerful Spin Masters take control. I would lose myself to the process all the while delighting in the sameness. I could convince myself, even for just a little while, that something as challenging as cancer couldn’t possibly exist in a place like the Fluff ‘n’ Fold.
Ask anyone who frequents the laundromat with any regularity, they’ll tell you that life’s greatest lessons can be discovered within the walls of the Fluff ‘n’ Fold. Lessons such as:
1. There is no such thing as pride as you wash and fold your whites in a large room with others.
2. The most effective machines are often decorated with out-of-order signs.
3.Comfort comes in odd forms, like standing with your back to a warm jumbo dryer on a cold January day.
Wednesdays at the Fluff ‘n’ Fold were simple, unlike life in my home. There were rules and a process, orderly outcomes and silent camaraderie, even laundry etiquette was clearly posted on the wall. Everything made sense. The Fluff ‘n’ Fold was my solace. Its walls became my fortress of escape. For two precious hours every week, I could pretend that everything was just fine.
I invite you to find your oasis as you travel along this road. Find a place that provides peace and order amidst the chaos. On this path these spots are often cleverly disguised and even maddeningly elusive, but without a doubt they are there.
As you seek your oasis, first shift your thinking about what it may look like. Open yourself to the possibility that it may not look at all as you expect. Don’t worry about the package it comes in; rather, seek out the feeling. In an experience that can batter the emotions, tune in to the balm and peace that is around and within you, always available.
Copyright ©2003 Elizabeth A. Cabalka
