You would think that someone dealing with something as dramatic as cancer and chemotherapy would have something to blog about…………..
It sucks!
In the words of my philosophical hero, Forest Gump, “that’s all I have to say about that” (he’s right about the box of chocolates, too).
Something upbeat….hmmmm. A guy is coming to drywall our renovated bathroom this evening. Nice guy to work us in around his real work and even work on a Friday evening. This will put an end to having to make a daily trek across town to mom’s house to take a shower. The house remodeling project has been a positive thing lately. It is a lot of work and could be a source of stress but, the way it has actually worked out is that the excitement of finally getting the house to “finished” state has overridden the hassles. It is a focal point where each minor step that gets accomplished is a source of renewed excitement because we can see the end coming.
I will pass on some advice that is almost cliché coming for someone with a life-threatening disease. Find joy in all the little things. I don’t think many of us can actually accomplish this; I couldn’t. But, now I have days when I don’t have the energy or strength to do anything. So, when I have a good day, even the simplest of things stand out. We have a horse. Tending to the horse is one of those daily routine chores that, at best, has digressed to the status of pain-in-the-arse. The other day, however, I had a spurt of energy and announced that I was going to resume the duties and ended up spending half an hour in the shed; feeding, watering, grooming, and mucking out the stall. I thoroughly enjoyed just the aspect of my body being able go through the motions.
Over the last eight years I have been through this revelation several times and have to admit that the times between “relapses” in the disease my sensitivity to the tangible, real joys of life has slowly receded to levels of previous numbness. So, I’m not preaching from higher ground, but I have been to the mountain top and rolled back down a few times. I am offering the experience of having the fresh, clean air at the mountain peak forced into my lungs and can vouch for the fact that it is worth the climb. Maybe some of you can find this source of energy and contentment through a level of personal control that I have yet to muster.
Comments (5)
Somehow the juxtaposition of ‘horse’ and ‘arse’ demands that I meld the two.
I think we all have a horse’s arse in our lives sitting around demanding grooming. Or wait. Demanding appreciation, right? Because that’s why we got the horse (plus arse) in the first place? But the joy in a new possession/toy/location/and-so-on is way too soon overshadowed by the concurrent associated burdens. And to bring this to your mountain-peak-view: life itself becomes, somewhere along the way, that damned horse’s arse. When we’re born, every little thing is all bright and new and pretty amazing, but somewhere in the pre-teen years a lot of the parts of it become, not only routine, but just plain irritatingly routine. But then there’s a break in the cycle and we get jolted by misfortune or downright catastrophe. And we remember: Oh, yeah. It’s a BLESSING to be able to get up in the morning, take a piss, drink a cup of coffee, open wide eyes to the dawn, and muck out the stable. Because when you’re ill, those things aren’t possible, or are possible only through pain and suffering. Of course, I’ve said “we,” but the majority of us haven’t been jolted in this way recently, or often enough. So thank providence for people like you, who have, and are weathering it, and are willing to give us a gentle reminder every now and then. Because when it does happen to us, it won’t be gentle, as we should all give pause to remember.
Wishing you all the gentle days I so unwittingly waste.
Sometimes I remember how much beauty is around me. And it is enough. Blessings abound
(hey. my comment disappeared! here it is again)
Somehow the juxtaposition of ‘horse’ and ‘arse’ demands that I meld the two.
I think we all have a horse’s arse in our lives sitting around demanding grooming. Or wait. Demanding appreciation, right? Because that’s why we got the horse (plus arse) in the first place? But the joy in a new possession/toy/location/and-so-on is way too soon overshadowed by the concurrent associated burdens. And to bring this to your mountain-peak-view: life itself becomes, somewhere along the way, that damned horse’s arse. When we’re born, every little thing is all bright and new and pretty amazing, but somewhere in the pre-teen years a lot of the parts of it become, not only routine, but just plain irritatingly routine. But then there’s a break in the cycle and we get jolted by misfortune or downright catastrophe. And we remember: Oh, yeah. It’s a BLESSING to be able to get up in the morning, take a piss, drink a cup of coffee, open wide eyes to the dawn, and muck out the stable. Because when you’re ill, those things aren’t possible, or are possible only through pain and suffering. Of course, I’ve said “we,” but the majority of us haven’t been jolted in this way recently, or often enough. So thank providence for people like you, who have, and are weathering it, and are willing to give us a gentle reminder every now and then. Because when it does happen to us, it won’t be gentle, as we should all take pause to remember.
Wishing you all the gentle days I so unwittingly waste.
{{{Hugs}}}
as i recall from my days of chemo, the journal would be
had chemo
felt like shit
threw up
more hair fall out.
this is more fun than i can imagine.
oh and this one…melted my wig when i opened the oven to check on the cookies. ha.
you’re right. it’s easy to forget the simple things. easy to see them during treatments though. i try hard now to spend time appreciating things i used to overlook. i don’t, however, get as prickly as i used to, when hearing people whine about trivial things. (and yep, i hear myself doing it, too)
i’m curious. i remember my dog was very in tune to my illness and treatments. i wonder…does your horse also shows changes in how it acts toward you?? (don’t laugh.) i used to work with horses…i was a kid…but i loved them and it seemed they could tell when i was having an off day. and i had a lot of those when i was 13.
i was glad to see you’d written. hope the remodeling is nearing an end. can’t imagine having to shower at someone else’s house.