I went to the supermarket with my friend (and new next door neighbour) ‘La J’ yesterday evening. As I was really missing Nog I thought about how strange it felt not to be there with him, about the countless times we’d been shopping at the supermarket together. Those little life routines.
And I was suddenly hit with the deepest sadness I’d ever known, far too deep for tears. Because I found myself wishing beyond reason, beyond hope, that I could ‘go back’ and have my old life back again. The one where I was healthy, before all this started. The one I had never appreciated enough.
I hope that you’re appreciating your today…
casa azahar 
Not really. It’s raining, I have a meeting in another hospital to go to that I really don’t have time for, and a backlog of samples to do because 2 out of 3 of my analysers were broken up until yesterday afternoon. But then again, I’m healthy enough now that I *can* sweat the petty stuff. For that, I’m grateful.
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I wasn’t – or not enough.
Thank you!
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I do appreciate the incredible blessings I have been given in this stage of my life. I try to take time daily to count them. I have numerousl reminders of the fragility of health and life every day, thanks to my clients. Thank you for the reminder to know how blessed I am so early in the day.
I have many clients who have had life changing things happen to them in an instant. One who comes to mind is a beautiful young man who slipped on some ice on the stairs at his place of employment. He fell forward and landed face first on the rail of the stairs, breaking his neck. He was told that he would be paralyzed from the neck down. After three years of therapy, he can walk and holds down a good job. But he lives on pain snd antisiezure medications. In an instant, his life was changed forever. He counts himself lucky that he is not living in a diaper in a wheel chair he works with his chin.
But he also had to work very hard to get where he is, and has no patience with the people in rehab that are not willing to accept some pain so they can get better. He is a strong advocate of moving forward, looking towards the future. I do not know how he stays so positive given the pain he lives with daily. But the truth is, we can never go back, we can only go forward.
Right now, in your situation, you do not know what is going to happen. The prognosis you have been given is scary (at best). Suddenly, almost in the twinkling of an eye, you have been changed from basically healthy with a dodgy back to a very sick person with little strength. It is no wonder you feel sad and wistful. (and don’t forget your emotions may be being influenced by the poisons in your system that are there to kill your unwelcome tenants.) But you don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or next year. Look forward in hope and know that it is possible for you to emerge from this dis-ease stronger and healthier than ever.
Think how unhappy you were that you were overweight. Now can you see that the fact that you had that excess for your body to live on is making it possible for you to go through the nausea and sickness of chemotherapy without dying? (Not that I would EVER advocate cancer as a weight-loss program!!!) But a year ago, you did not know how important having those reserves was going to be.
We are continuing our happy dances for you, my dear! What good news that you are able to go shopping again. When you look back, treasure all the good that was there but don’t get stuck there, turn and look forward, see yourself healthy again. I believe you will be.
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Sometimes I find myself taking things for granted. Then I kick myself and realise just what a wonderful privilege it is to be walking this Earth. At the moment I am feeling very sad because of the actions of another (which I have just blogged) but even in that sadness, there is a thankfulness that I am here.
Yes, each day is a reward and a promise and an honour.
{{{{hugs for az}}}}
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As usual, you’ve made me stop and think. I feel a kind of lightness every day given what I’ve been through in the past year or so. Sometimes you have to go through hell to appreciate the good things in life.
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I know what you mean, Sara. I wasn’t able to sweat the petty stuff at all last week.
You’re welcome, Johnny. 🙂
That’s quite a story, hmh. And of course, stuff like this always happens to someone else … until it happens to you. I hope the fact that I still have plenty of ‘reserves’ doesn’t mean that there’s a whole whack of weight-loss inducing sickness ahead of me.
Empathy is both a gift and a skill, Archie, which you seem to have in spades.
Seems to be human nature, Colm.
I’m very grateful that I’m feeling better this week and can get out for walks. I’m also more emotionally stable – feeling so vulnerable and needy is terrifying for me. But this sadness I felt yesterday was different. I imagine (because this has not yet happened to me) it’s how someone feels when a loved one dies and you realise that they are gone forever, and all the things you never said or did can never ever happen. I was just remembering little moments and wishing with all my heart I could go back and say to myself – “look at how goddam lucky you are!”
Anyhow, from now on I’m certainly going to appreciate all the days I feel healthy and happy.
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I needed that reminder to appreciate both my health and my current carefree existence.
I’ve been seriously ill before, and immediately afterwards I appreciated every happy moment, but once I was fully well again, the memory of that time faded quickly and I soon found myself taking the mundane pleasures of life for granted and grumbling over minor problems.
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I know that feeling. I’ve had that feeling.
And if I may be contrarian for a second, I’d like to say that you are the person, among all my acquaintance online or off, whom I would say has indeed seized the day, squeezed the juice out of it, and enjoyed every drop.
Look at you. Are you a middle-manager in Manitoba? Hell no! You’re an entrepreneur in the New EU! You followed your heart across the ocean and that heart is just big enough to harbour doubts as well.
I understand your guilt, because I felt it. But I, unlike you, was in a corporate straightjacket of my own knitting at the time. You have nothing to feel guilty about, and so much to feel proud about.
Recognize that, like a toxic hangover, chemo will generate thoughts in you that have no basis in reality. It’s like waking up hating yourself after a party only to realize you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s inherent in the chemo. Take comfort in the fact that it’s just the chemo talking.
You should be proud of your life. You should be proud of yourself. And if you aren’t, we will be proud for you.
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Yay – nice one Rain
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Wow, you have totally blown me away, Rain. I just called Nog in Alicante and read this to him over the phone – it made him feel better about being away, knowing that I’m getting such wonderful support. Especially as things didn’t go so well last week.
Thank you! *hug*
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I really liked reading raincoaster’s response! What a great take on the whole situation! It is the chemo talking: remember that chemotherapy is a delicate balancing act between killing the cancer and killing the patient. Those substances are nasty nasty poisons and it would be shocking if they didn’t have an effect on your brain!
Your situation has certainly made me stop and think about fortune and blessings a lot mroe than usual.
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Powerful post Az, especially for me, who just tried suicide last week. I often marvel at how adversity makes us focus on our lives in ways we never have before, and never think of on a day to day basis. We always seem to appreciate everything too late.
You are marvelously strong. I admire that immensely.
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That is such sad news, WC. I just can’t imagine that kind of despair. How about joining me in taking it one day at a time? I’m not really that strong, you know, but sometimes I do manage to fool myself into believing I am. Don’t leave us, okay? *hug*
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I DO join you in taking one day at a time.
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WC you can’t go anywhere until you come and visit me.
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Yay! That’s the spirit, WC. 🙂
An excellent idea, Rain, especially as you guys live so close to each other. Meanwhile, how about three-way scrabble?
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Scrabble? I’d rather die!
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I’ve had moments like that, az. Had a doozy of an attack of claustrophobia when it dawned on me, a couple of weeks after my diagnosis of diabetes, that my body was a prison, and I was trapped in it. Know what? Turned out, not so much — joy comes to all who are open to it, and things may be heart-stopping now with sadness or terror, but tomorrow you’ll be watching down the street and feel one of those joyous kismet moments, where the sky has never been so blue, or you’ve never felt so good or happy or…
Trust me, it happens! And thanks for the reminder that it does, az. {{{{hugs}}}}
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I had one of those moments just a few minutes ago, SC. I think waking up around 7am on a summer morning in Sevilla has to be one of the best feelings in the whole universe. It’s perfection.
First of all there are two starving cats to snibble. Then I become aware of the beautifully fresh cool morning air in the room (after having gone to bed in the HEAT with the electric fan on) and when I look out the window from my bed I can see the tail end of the sunrise over the top of the Santa Cruz church. There are swifts darting and weaving in the sky and I can hear the sound of metal scraping on metal as several burly construction workers drag long supports off a flatbed truck.
Ha, that last one doesn’t always happen (they’re renovating the building next door). But curiously it didn’t ‘spoil the moment’ in the slightest.
Yep, summer mornings in Sevilla are the best.
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