Well. Long time, no blog. As slow as I\u2019ve been at writing this summer, you\u2019d think I was literally using a broken quill and the Pony Express for delivery, but have mercy. It\u2019s been an insanely busy summer, and I\u2019ve lived through it with barely enough energy to scrape by each day.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve wanted to write a follow up to my post that I wrote about my cancer scare, but after the news came back that my breast lump was negative for cancer, I came down with an immediate case of writer\u2019s block. I could\u2019ve said so many words, and yet I felt for a long while afterward that it wasn\u2019t time to speak. It was just time to live. Enjoy the weather. My family. My friends. And a few new books. So that\u2019s what I\u2019ve tried to do.<\/p>\n
Jessie and Karl have been living with us, and until they move into their new house, I\u2019ve resolved to simply give up a bit of my own life for theirs, and also enjoy the fact that I don\u2019t have to make heart wrenching decisions regarding chemo, radiation, and possible funeral arrangements. In short, I\u2019ve spent my summer intent on de-stressing however I could, while keeping as active as possible, in mind and body. Living on two acres with a toddler grandson (aka Tornado Todd) has helped me do so. But summer is ending. Todd, Karl, and Jessie will be in their new home in a few weeks, and I need to get back to the blogging board. I\u2019ve missed it, and yet I needed to be done with it for a spell.<\/p>\n
As for those post-cancer scare feelings \u2026<\/p>\n
My initial reaction to the good news that I was cancer free was of course elation, relief, and peace. I floated on a ginormous fluffy cloud for quite a few days \u2013 and then depression hit. And then guilt for feeling depressed hit. What kind of ungrateful heathen goes into depression after hearing they are cancer free? It didn\u2019t make an ounce of sense to me, but I suspected it had to do with the fact that, though I was not filled with cancer, I remained afflicted with celiac, gastroparesis, heart problems, thyroid problems, chronic fatigue, headaches, and a host of neurological symptoms that nobody can explain. So although I was saved from walking down the rough road of trying to eradicate cancer, I would also have to continue walking down the dead end road I\u2019ve been on for sixteen years.<\/p>\n
Sixteen.\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n
Could I do another sixteen?<\/p>\n
Did I want<\/i> to do another sixteen? <\/p>\n
The answer to that last question was often no. I didn\u2019t want to. I was so mentally and physically done with chronic illness, I wasn\u2019t capable of mustering up any desire to keep pushing through fatigue, brain fog and inability to concentrate, eating the same two foods day in and day out, walking and busying myself in spite of two out of four limbs shaking and hurting.<\/p>\n
But I wanted to want to want to. <\/i>So even though I\u2019ve been in a bit of a funk, my prayers have tended toward asking the Lord to restore a vigor for life, and bring healing to my broken, often misunderstood, highly undesirable \u2026 uhm, body of death, I guess you could call it.<\/p>\n
You know, when you say the word \u201ccancer\u201d, it\u2019s like you turn on a switch in the brains and emotional make up of every friend and acquaintance you\u2019ve ever had. Everyone gets it. Sympathizes. Sends cards. Steps in to pray their hearts out. But when you have some wickedly relentless, funkadilly digestive disease that doctors don\u2019t even know how to explain, let alone treat, that also requires you to stop eating most everything by mouth and partake of \u201cfood\u201d via your veins? Eh. You mostly get blank stares.<\/p>\n
I was seriously impressed with how people stepped up when I was having my breast surgery. Cancer!! What an awful word. What a possible fiasco! What guaranteed suffering! What a fearful prospect!<\/p>\n
All true. But no.<\/b> What has been perhaps even more fearful to me is the thought of\u00a0another sixteen years<\/b><\/i>. Or more. Perhaps many more. Do I appreciate the cards I received in the mail before my breast surgery? Yes! The prayers? Oh my goodness, a thousand times, yes! The rush of comfort that so many offered? Absolutely. But why? Why that reaction to cancer and barely measurable responses to another sixteen years, or more?<\/p>\n
My body is a prison, people. Nobody wants to serve another sixteen in prison. Or more.<\/p>\n
I know it\u2019s up to the prisoner to look out at the free world correctly. The free do not owe the locked up anything. <\/b>So in a very real sense, I don\u2019t expect anything but <\/i>that blank stare. But, it\u2019s just hard. Since hearing I\u2019ll likely be on earth a while longer, it\u2019s been exceedingly difficult to conjure up enough ooomph <\/i>to carry on. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. In spite of my elation about being free of cancer, I remain imprisoned: worn, tattered, and daunted by the thought of another sixteen years.<\/p>\n
Or more.<\/p>\n
Hence my silence. A writer likes to write to inspire, and I am fully aware that what I\u2019ve written today hasn\u2019t been the least bit inspiring. In fact, maybe I\u2019ve just upset your delicate internal balance, and now you\u2019re going to have to eat a dozen Oreos on the couch whilst watching Oprah. Who knows! But a writer also tells the truth, and the truth is, I\u2019m glad I\u2019m cancer free \u2013 and<\/i> sad I\u2019m not healthy. If that makes a few readers binge on edible and emotional garbage, oh well.<\/p>\n
At least you can<\/i> binge. I have to wait until my body of death actually experiences death. And when that day comes? Oh, it\u2019s Oreos. Soft pretzels dipped in hot cheese sauce. Pizza. Ice cream. Yeasty rolls dripping with butter and homemade strawberry jam. Peanut Buster Parfaits (plural). Cream of wheat with plenty of milk and sugar. Cinnamon and sugar toast to dip in the cream of wheat. Wheat. Wheat. Wheat. All of it, wheat. Pepsi on the rocks to wash it all down. Followed by a cup of hot, peach flavored tea served with butter cookies \u2013 made from wheat.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m nearly positive my \u201cmansion\u201d will be a small farmhouse in the country, with a white wrap around porch \u2013 in the middle of a wheat field. Just acre after acre of amber waves of grain, greeting me, welcoming me home \u2026 and constantly reminding me that death has been overcome.<\/p>\n
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Well. Long time, no blog. As slow as I\u2019ve been at writing this summer, you\u2019d think I was literally using a broken quill and the Pony Express for delivery, but have mercy. It\u2019s been an insanely busy summer, and I\u2019ve lived through it with barely enough energy to scrape by each day. I\u2019ve wanted to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2920,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-52","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n