March 4.
Nothing makes us more uncomfortable than being outside our typical zones of comfort.  Especially when we are forced to do so, having no say whatsoever about being there.

Saturday, I had a say.  It was our team’s first fundraiser – wait for it…wait for it…a purse party.  Yeah, I know.  Tell me and MY comfort zone about it.  Sometimes my big mouth gets me in a lot of trouble and this was one of those times.  I had been in a customer’s office back in early November, roughly 3 days after agreeing to campaign for LLS. 
“Hey, Cindy, I LOVE your bag!”
“You do?  Well, I sell them!  Want to have a home party?”
(Silently:  Um, <insert not acceptable language> NO.)                      

But in Pavlov fashion, I responded with, “Well maybe.  If we can somehow turn it into a fundraiser, then yes, I would absolutely love to have a purse party.”

Like I ever imagined thosewords ever coming out of my mouth.
It was actually really fun.  I have some wicked funny girlfriends, most of whom make jokes at my expense, so I love them all the more.  Dana and her family members came over; I’m glad they were able to meet Liv briefly.  We laughed, shopped, and made some money for the cause.  Angela came up from Indy the night before for a team “meeting,” and to help get everything ready.  I’m pretty sure she isn’t speaking to me anymore, but once her cool purse arrives she’ll forget all about being out of her own comfort zone.
Cancer completely comes out of nowhere most times, not asking us what we have to say about it and certainly never inquiring about our comfort at any point throughout the process.  It’s a pretty rude guest.  Yet once we realize it has crashed our party, all we can think about is how to kick it out as quickly as possible; sometimes without even telling anyone else around us that it has shown up uninvited.
Whether individually or someone we know, a diagnosis always strikes when we are least prepared, mostly because we aren’t thinking about it.  We are just going about our usual business – work, groceries, calendars, trying to put away Christmas decorations before Valentine’s Day, that kind of stuff.  And then we are immediately transported to a place called NotMyComfortZone against our will.
But it’s ok.  There are good people there.  People who love you and want you to get back home.  And years later you will realize that even though it was a total interruption of everything you had planned, being outside of your comfort zone helps you appreciate them, purse parties, and working towards a cure so much more.

53 Days.


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