Ringing in the new year

Hey, did you have a happy Fiscal New Year's Eve last night?

Here's how the new fiscal year was greeted at the Serchia homestead: Three cans of Isosource at 7, jammies at 7:30 and curling up on the couch to watch a Woody Allen movie at 8 (if not for the credits, I would not have guessed I was watching a Woody Allen film. All of the men save one dated women their own age and the one who didn't got murdered).

I don't know what Dick Clark or Ryan Seacrest were up to last night, but if a fiscal new year's ball dropped anywhere in this time zone at midnight, I didn't stay awake to see it. (It was a chore to keep my eyes open till the credits rolled on Woody's movie.)

All things considered, however, my Fiscal New Year's Eve was far better than the real New Year's Eve six months ago.

Whoa, I was in miserable shape when 2009 began. My G-tube was less than a month old then, I wasn't talking and whatever was causing my problems was a complete mystery to me. I wasn't in much of a mood to shake a noisemaker or pour Champagne down my G-tube, and I still didn't feel like celebrating when the Chinese New Year arrived a few weeks later.

Things are a bit more stable today. My G-tube feels like a natural appendage, I'm learning how to get around the nuisance of speechlessness, and while I can't say that my cancer is in remission yet, I have a gut feeling that I'm moving in that direction.

So I'm going to go out on a limb and make a fiscal new year's resolution: I resolve to keep plugging away at fighting this disease.

I'm not going to resolve to beat cancer. I don't want to feel like I blew it if I'm still dealing with treatments and tubes and PET scans when the next fiscal new year rolls around. Besides, the fight is more important than victory.

Jeez, that sounds like something Vince Lombardi would have said. Well, you know what I mean.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to grab a noisemaker and go out and find a Fiscal New Year's Day parade.