First Things First



I’m tired of counting down. Feels like my whole cancer life is about counting down.

You can think - but not in colour

While the second opinion was brighter than the first, everything I go through in Lymphomaland opens new windows of insight I’d have been happy to keep closed. It’s getting drafty in here. There’s that always-look-on-the-bright-side saying - Whenever God (or whoever) closes a door, he/she/they opens a window. Why do we think a bunch of open doors and windows is a good thing? Bugs and rodents wander in, kids slip out. It’s like disguising problems as opportunities.

Doing Defence

I've been thinking about the skills and experiences that have strengthened my defence, and will bolster me in the cancer arena. I used to box. In boxing, there are a variety of defences - contact and non-contact. There's blocking: covering your face with your gloves and taking the punch to the arms not to the head. There’s parrying: deflecting the blows off to the side with a swat. There’s slipping: ducking or moving to one side to avoid contact all together.

A Large Build-up of Snot. An Unremarkable Brain.

I’ve been thinking about the MRI I’m getting. Will it reveal nasty thoughts - like setting fire to the latest Diary of a Wimpy Kid so my child will look away from the computer screen? Or steal my great ideas - like Tupperware coffins? I’ve been trying not to conjure tumours. I’m told visualization is a powerful thing.