Tuesday, March 22, 2016

A Wandering Pondering

This morning I find myself at a hospital; here for a friend and not myself. (A scheduled and expected surgery; she's already done and in recovery and awake.) They all smell the same -- hospitals. And even when they try to make them feel warm, there is an underlying sterility on all the surfaces and in all the people. I tune into the open WiFi and eventually find my way to Facebook, as you do. There's a relatively new function that allows you to look over your postings from that day through your years on FB, and share it with a new reaction or new thoughts and such and whatnot. I enjoy seeing this mini history of myself. It's a good moment of mindfulness for me. I sit and try to bring back the day and the thoughts and moment that brought about the choice to share this contemplation, photo, video, meme or otherwise. It forces my brain to work and remember, and brings me closer to my Self's center as I attempt to commune with my younger self.

Today, this was in my "Memories":
4 Years Ago Today     Thu, Mar 22, 2012
"Feels pretty lucky to accomplish one thing in each day right now. Today, I baked cookies."

This is most interesting as a memory for me today. Four years ago I was barely three months into this cancer journey. This post was one week post a five-week radiation/chemo round and I remember I was completely wiped out and dealing with pains and side-effects. I had already stopped working and the days were just hard. I was also dealing with this whole new idea of short term disability and what was I going to do with myself in the days and weeks to come. So here I am today recovering from a hard infusion day yesterday. One where I was just tired of this whole thing - the chemo, the cancer, the constancy of it. But today I had a purpose and and a friend to support and it makes coming up out of the darkness so very much easier. As at my last infusion (which I am aware I did not at all share with you -- bad blogger, bad!), my energy has been good and recovering quickly. And no nausea issues, which had been an issue in prior sessions. So being here for someone else is not too much strain on me and Oscar.

I clearly was choosing some optimism and self-indulgence on this day four years ago. I don't remember those cookies, but my description in the comments make me want to attempt a recreation. "A bastardized peanut butter cookie recipe, using almond butter, chopped almonds, extra vanilla and more salt." I am certain the roomie will approve and we shall enjoy the fruits of these mental labours of mine today.

It is heartening to know that I have continually pushed through even the hard days of this journey with some sense of positivity. Whatever adaptability skills I picked up in childhood, I am thankful for them.

The week before this was an epically fun and wonderful time. I was surrounded by friends new and old and experienced the quality of this community I have chosen. I was told, multiple times, that I was an inspiration to people. And every time I was humbled by their words. I'm just being me, and attempting to be my best me (I stumble, but I'm clumsy like that). It doesn't feel so very special to me. But I am grateful for the compliments and they do help lift my heart. And I do so believe those emotional and mental spaces are as important to keep well as the physicality of me.

Coming off the high of last week and right back into treatment and the quietude of these first days, clearly was a more difficult transition for me. Uncertain why that is, however. I've come off many great weeks and weekends with family and friends recently. It has been very nearly six months since re-diagnosis. Perhaps it is just the wear finally beginning to show. I'll have to spend some quiet time with myself to ponder.

1 comment:

  1. It is so great to loose yourself in the moment when you are having fun, easy to forget these days that are your norm. I will compare it to a wonderfully warm summer day, you see the waterfall ahead and run to immerse yourself in the joy, only to be shocked back to reality with the iceberg cold water cascading down your body. Dammit! I could have done without that! Love you, Aunt Lenora

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