The next-door neighbor kids, who are three and almost six and cute beyond belief, ring the doorbell.
“Can Erin come over to our house?”
Erin is downstairs in her room, engrossed in Legos, so I counter, “Would you like to come play here for a while?”
“Well,” says Lilah, an incredibly self-possessed 6-year-old. “We’re not supposed to come over while you have the sickness here.”
I’m not sure what she means. Erin had a bad cold about 10 days ago, could that be it?
“I’ll call your Mom and let her know. Would that be OK?”
“Sure,” Lilah says, striding into the house with her little brother Lucas toddling along in her wake. I could listen to Lucas’ cute little voice all day. He entertains me just by saying “Kitty Man!” over and over.
I call their Mom. “Just wanted to let you know that your kids are here. They said something funny about not being allowed to come in because of the sickness here.”
“Oh!” she laughs. “I’ve tried to explain to Lilah that you’re sick, and that if you’re feeling tired, then Erin should come over here to our house. I don’t think Lilah really understands. She keeps telling me, ‘Mommy! Heather is NOT sick! She doesn’t act sick! She doesn’t look sick!’ I keep trying to explain, but I don’t think it’s working.”
When I stop chuckling, I tell Lisa, “That’s OK. Erin is 10 and I don’t think she really understands cancer either.”
Then I start chuckling again. Obviously, Lilah and Lucas didn’t notice all those months that I barely made it out of pajamas. It makes my day.
Next time I have to have some pathology work done, I’m going to tell the doctor, “But Lilah and Lucas say I am NOT sick.”