I'm angry at cancer for a lot of reasons, but this week's pet peeve is a bit of an odd duck. Let me see if I can put it into words...
Prior to the diagnosis, I felt like the road was fairly sturdy beneath me. There were a few bumps and bobbles, but in general, life was going forward, I was still relatively immortal, I was secure in the knowledge that women in my family tend to hang in longer than queens of England (to paraphrase Eddie Izzard, she's strapped into that throne and she's not going anywhere). All the sudden, there was this huge crack in my sidewalk. Heck, not just my sidewalk, but my mother's sidewalk as well. While Mom has made it past the crack just fine, and I'm building a bridge to the other side, I'm aware of the cracks now. I didn't ever see them before, but now I'm having to pay attention to where my feet land, aware that at any moment another crack may open up and swallow me. I can't skip ahead anymore, I have to deliberately place each step, and it's so much more exhausting to be slow and careful. I have a residual level of fear in the back of my mind now, and talking to friends who have gone through this and are NED (no evidence of disease or remission), they feel the same way. Which makes me say, yet again, cancer is a jerk.
No comments:
Post a Comment