You know, it’s easy to forget sometimes. It’s easy to forget when I start to live in my room much like my life before. I am limited in what I can do physically, and even when it gets cool enough to get out and walk more, it still won’t be all that different than my previous existence. Walking to Yuuaz, walking to Gusto... Though I really crave doing that. But that's another story I hope to get to, the appreciation of doing the little things I did before. Anyway, about those days, the days when it all blurred together and I could hardly appreciate each one as it came. I think that’s why it’s good sometimes to think of those cancer boundaries the doctors set. Even if I transcend them all, melt those tumors down and live a normal life I am still going to die. You know, someday. I think before I acted like I was going to be immortal, like I had all the time in the world to waste. Made it easy to want to lose myself and just forget the world around, hell, my body around me. Brain in a jar. I guess with all the writing I do it’s easy to wonder how much is different now. The difference will be in the finishing of it. So I guess when things get note-taxingly blurry in the Dark Backwards it becomes easy to lose sight of that as well. And then what do I have that’s different than before?
My cancer?
No, that’s where we started with this. But it’s where I have to go sometimes (today?) to remind myself, to renew myself. So what does that mean for today? What exactly should I do?
Don’t forget your people. Get out there and connect. Hell, what about setting that laptop on your legs when you take the bed after dinner? Stop watching so much TV.
That's it, that’s the thing. A thing at least, a very big thing. See, when I lie down or stretch out my legs after eating, when I empty my colostomy bag, when I go to sleep or before it, many time I turn on the ol TV. That’s one of the things that blurs your days, and your head. Mind poison. “Now” poison. What I cut out in the hospital. Spent weeks without it, way it should be. Get enough of it during eating, our recordings and DVDs and such, gots to be real careful about anymore. I am saying this after watching track and field with my chair still pointed at the set, which is at least off. Yay, for that.
After losing my sister a month after her cancer diagnosis, it made me realize that we are living daily as if just connected by a thread. Who knows if I'll be here tomorrow. Heavy duty stuff to think about!
ReplyDeletea month? that is scary. it's enough to make me grateful i've had three of them after my diagnosis. Still want more of course...
DeleteYeah. Pancreatic cancer, end stages. No symptoms until it was already in her liver, lymph nodes, back. She ran an 18 mile run two weeks before she felt really bad. The only good thing is that she didn't suffer long, and that's the only good thing. She tried a couple doses of chemo and said forget it; it just made her feel worse. Weed and morphine to get her through. I hate the beast that is cancer :( It truly is The Beast.
DeleteNOW poison. You hit that right on, right on my brother! (I tried that out, replacing brother with cousin, but it just didn't work... it also didn't work with marmot, ice king, or weevil either, so brother it is!). Too much tv, too much internetting and chiving-on, blurring is such a good description of what it does, allows us to gloss through life, past it, lose the meaning we should be finding. I am with you... right after I go binge watch that one show on netflix....
ReplyDeleteAnd blurring is probably what I'm going to do pretty soon now. Helps me forget I have a tube in my throat.
Delete