Coherence

Selecting a cancer treatment option legitimately feels like a life or death decision. But the choices do not have clear consequences—only that one may extend one’s life (or not) and the other(s) have have the same potential effects. The selection requires coming to terms with the fact that every available option may be the wrong one. Or accepting that none of the options may be right. How one comes to terms with reality is unclear; perhaps it involves a simple flip of a coin and, then, reliance on chance.

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My thoughts ricochet inside my head as if they encountered no substance to slow them as they bounce off the inner surface of my skull. I cannot seem to capture any of those fleeting ideas and attitudes for long enough to fully explore them. They tumble and dance by with such speed that I can barely grasp even the subjects on which they focus, much less any substantive details. Tangled threads overlap one another to the extent that every idea is at least partially hidden, making it impossible for me to understand my own thinking. If I could sleep, I would, but the buzz of random thoughts is too loud to permit it. I have spent the majority of an hour and a half trying to calm my brain enough to allow me to write coherently. Instead, my brain is a collection of frenzied noise that blocks messages intended to guide my fingers on the keyboard.

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One of the questions posed to me by a clinical trial coordinator in Houston was: “Do you ever wish you could go to sleep and never wake up?” I said “no,” of course. But the thought has entered my mind on occasion. It’s a selfish thought, one that does not acknowledge the cruelty of the idea. Yet eternal absence of emotional and physical pain—the permanent elimination of consciousness—sometimes seems exceptionally appealing…though not sufficiently so to act accordingly. This morning, mi novia heard from a friend in California who is experiencing extreme pain caused by cancer. When that level of pain becomes part of one’s daily life, I think I could more fully understand the desire for an “endless sleep.”

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In a little while, mi novia and I will go out for a mocha frappucino and a pastry…or something equally appealing…leaving the house empty for the housekeeper. Having the housekeeper visit every two weeks makes life considerably more pleasant. Not only are the floors clean and the house dust-free when she finishes, her presence sends us out of the house for a while. Getting out for a bit is enjoyable. If the outdoor temperatures were several degrees warmer and if the winds would remain calm, I might enjoy a short walk. That time will come.

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Almost two hours have passed…still nothing consequential flowing from my fingers. There will be another time when coherent ideas will flow…just not now.