Friday, March 13, 2015
Run/ Walk/ Bike/ Elliptical (Today: 2.32 miles; Running Total: 204.32 miles)
Day 245 of *Another* 100 Days of Good Karma.
As treatment progresses I struggle to maintain the perspective I’ve gained.
I’m in a weird place between ‘having cancer’ and ‘not having cancer’. My radiation oncologist said that chemo dissolved the area of concern under my collar bone. Surgery removed the tumors, the cancerous lymph nodes under my arm and any calcification. Radiation is taking care of the lymph nodes not handled with surgery.
So I’m still going through cancer treatment, but do I still have cancer? I don’t know.
I’m good with losing the cancer.
I don’t want to lose the perspective that came with it.
I don’t want to forget that every day things are a gift. Writing and physical activity and time with family and friends. These are gifts.
And then I get angry over something. It won’t even be a big something. It can be something like watching the news. I see the pettiness of the world. I see how little people can be toward each other.
But my anger isn’t little. It’s big. It’s too big.
“Don’t you know you don’t have time for this shit?” I want to scream at the television. “Don’t you know it’s temporary? That all of this is temporary?”
But I don’t scream. I turn off the television. I walk away.
I don’t feel equipped to handle the everyday business of being human anymore. Instead of facing the world I lace up my running shoes and wonder how I’m supposed to go back to ‘normal’, whatever that is, after this is over.
Cancer has taught me that only one thing is certain. That I have today. I might not even have all day. I might only have ‘right now’.
I know everyone probably ‘knows’ that, but I don’t think everyone lives with it every day. They don’t live with the knowledge in their bones.
It’ll hit me at the most inane times. I can be cutting up vegetables or folding laundry and I’ll suddenly flash back to how bad food smelled after chemo. Or I’ll remember the last time I wore that shirt was the day before surgery.
And it catches me off guard every time. It brings color to the world, but it also scares the shit out of me.
I sometimes long for the days before cancer when I knew for certain what was going to happen tomorrow or the next day or five years from now.
Now I know that certainty was an illusion. What I’m really longing for is the ignorance of my own frailty.
Longing for ignorance is terrible.
It makes me think of that moment in The Matrix: “Why, oh why, didn’t I take the blue pill?”
Today’s silver lining: Running helps. Running clears the anger. So does writing. If you’ve never tried to write three pages of word vomit to clear your head, you’re missing out.
‘Normal’, I guess, will come in time.
What’s your silver lining today? I love comments!
Don’t want to leave a comment, but have something you want to share? Send me an email at gettingthewordswrong(at)gmail(dot)com.