I am not a rock. I am not an island.

After a busy couple of months, I have retired, and I am under treatment.

The treatment is a pill taken first thing in the morning. The medicine is very expensive, to all of us in the aggregate although not to me as an individual. Thank goodness for good health insurance. I do have a genetic mutation in the cancer and am able to take targeted treatment. I’m dealing with some side effects, but they aren’t as uncomfortable as full-bore chemo.

I’ve been taking care of business. New wills and powers of attorney are executed, my passwords are in a sealed envelope in the lawyer’s safe, beneficiaries are updated, and expenses have been dialed back. I finished my job as neatly and completely as possible, and left matters in good shape for my successor. All of this is liberating. As each task gets done, there is more time to simply enjoy living.

I am an oldest child, and I’ve spent much of my life being a responsible person. Now I am pulling back from that role. At the moment, I have very few responsibilities and I am loathe to add any beyond care of friends and family, and paying the bills on time.

I’ve been the rock, the person you can count on. Not any more. It’s time for a new role, and a life lived more lightly.

At the same time, I have never felt less isolated in my life. The abundance of love I have been shown by family and friends is overwhelming. I never realized before how many people care. All I can do in return is love back. There is a lot of peace in loving.

I have a new way of living to explore, and I am surprisingly happy to be in this place.