Sunday in Lymphoma Land.

My Sunday was all over the place. It started with an anxiety attack that I mistook for more cancer (the logical place to go was heart attack but I like to stay focused in at least one area of my life), followed by a 10 minute organizing frenzy, some work on the novel, reading shit on FB, crying over a you-tube video of a bunch of uniformed Russian cops singing Daft Punk’s Get Lucky, posting shit on FB, peeing, then realizing there was no toilet paper, having cancer, considering a new social media platform, washing one of three dirty pots, writing notes while a friend dictated a to-do list, taking four hamburgers out of the freezer, contemplating anti-depressants, eating high fibre cereal.

I can see a theme here. Can’t you? It’s ADHD and Lymphoma is a crazy-ass combination. This might look like multitasking, but then multitaking is the new at-this-rate-I’ll-get-nothing-fucking-completed-ever.

My life on cancer? Maybe it’s too early to say.

It would be useful to prioritize activities rather than have them crash into each other on my suddenly packed highway of everything-and-nothing-is-a-priority. But setting priorities requires stopping for a few minutes, maybe breathing, maybe thinking about what those priorities might be. That takes space. That takes time. Time is now scary. Scary reads as scarcity. Scarcity is likely to push me away from, not toward to-do lists – be they banal (grocery shop) or lofty (climb Machu Pichu).

Waiting for the stopping and breathing part to happen, then I’ll leap in with my pen.

In the meantime I'm in the line-up for treatment land. I've got the ticket so I can't turn around and leave but I don’t know whether it’ll be chemo or radiation, or both. I hate rides.

I’m mixing my metaphors but I have cancer so I get to do what I want – metaphorically speaking.

As for the coping approach: two steps forward…, back in with no rear view mirror, blindfolded. As I’ve often said about parenting - today's success is tomorrow's failure, and right now I don’t have the mental energy to go looking for a new success every day.

Take a shot of scotch or something, Aviva.  More than one person has told me that. But I don’t know. Don’t I need my liver to get through this?

Comments

Reading, listening, finding my own self not remembering to breathe as you take me inside your experience. Thinking about you and hoping that the path gets a little less fuzzy soon.

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