I've had a very rough weekend, and have been humbled by the experience. I've done a lot of learning and thinking over the last couple of days, and there is much I want to write about. I'm sure my energy won't match the urgency of my thoughts, but I will try to express some of what has been going on within me recently, over the course of the next couple of days.
Most importantly for me, it's time to assert my rational side here and now. Let me be clear: cancer is vicious, indiscriminate, and unpredictable. Cancer treatment is miserable, cumulative in its effects, and assaults not only the body, but the spirit and will, as well. Cancer is not an adventure, a journey, or a path to enlightenment. Cancer is not a gift and I am not a butterfly amidst an airy-fairy metamorphosis.
Chemotherapy is strong stuff, and it can create fuzzy states of mind, especially when combined with the long and powerful process of cancer diagnosis and acceptance. Medications and treatments can bring about pockets of comfort and relief, from inside which the world seems less frightening for a time. During those times it can be easy to forget the enormity of the monster we face. It's human to apply metaphor to life when meaning is not apparent, to try to extract learning from hardship, to anticipate when change is imminent. I find myself a bit embarrassed by the naivety of some of my earlier posts here, but that's the nature of a journal: to document growth and change. I'm sure I'll change perspectives hundreds of times in the coming months, and this is one of those times.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Reality Check
2 comments:
Most journeys only make sense when you've reached the end. This is the sort of journey that can't help but change you. But there's no way of knowing in what ways until it's over and you're safely on the other side.
Plod on! Once you're through, a lot of things that trouble other people will probably seem like small potatoes.
You're right. Thank you for the reminder.
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