The new year is barely two days old and I’ve already seen numerous posts\/tweets\/articles setting low expectations and bracing for life in 2022. After all the fun we had in 2020 and 2021, some people are expecting more of the same dumpster fire goodness in 2022. Some people are adamant that this year must<\/em> be better, or else….something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was mostly on the fence about which camp to join, though dumpster fire pessimism was in the lead, as we spent the waning hours of 2021 being dealt a positive COVID test result for our five-year-old daughter and the first days of 2022 trapped in our house with several sick, sleep-deprived and ornery children. This afternoon, stress and self-pity levels were at all-time highs around here for us parents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But then I remembered that today is January 2, and that day means something big to me. Today is the seventh anniversary of the day that I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Compare any other difficulty you have going on in your life right now with hearing the phrase “you have cancer,” and you’d probably prefer any other difficulty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n