Just when I was about ready to finish this morning’s blog post, I lit a cone of incense, something I have not done in quite some time. Mi novia mentioned that noticeable pause in what used to be my common practice; the fact that the massage therapist had an aromatic diffuser in her waiting room probably prompted her memory. Something about the aroma of burning incense helps relax me. Yesterday, in the darkened massage room, the therapist had another diffuser operating. Also, very low-volume, soothing music played in the background, giving the setting a calming, relaxing environment. After lighting the cone of incense, I played the “Spa” playlist on my Amazon Echo. I should have lit the incense and started the music when I first sat at my desk this morning. Together, the sound and smell are delightful. I plan to reinstitute that practice.
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When the crush of reality approaches intolerability—even when reality is simply unacceptably distasteful—one’s options decrease in number. Depending on the situation, a person may be able to cause circumstances to change, thereby making reality more appealing or, at least, tolerable. But if the changes required are beyond the individual’s influence or control, that option decays into an unachievable wish. Something that enables one to avoid reality—or minimize exposure to it—may be the only viable option to make life more appealing than its alternative. That something may be as basic as simple distraction or as complex as unrestrained escapism. Those two possibilities actually may represent two distinct points along a spectrum of a single option; different degrees of variation from reality. Yet that single spectrum may constitute far more options. On one end is a minor distraction; on the other is an utter abandonment of reality in favor of fantasy—between those two ends are almost innumerable variations. Thus far, I have recorded my thoughts about options for responding to unpleasant realities in the form of generalized hypothetical philosophies. I could share far more specific ideas, but some of them might be correctly interpreted by people with whom I’d rather not share my thoughts. They probably don’t read this blog, but just in case…
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Yesterday began with a light-touch body massage, followed later in the day by an hour-long infusion of IV fluids. Last night, we watched a couple of episodes of Line of Duty on Acorn TV. If I haven’t already, I must say I highly recommend the series. It is an intriguing…riveting…police procedural that distracts me from thinking about/dealing with realities I would rather not have to acknowledge. I scheduled another massage for early next month. I’ll have another infusion this afternoon. I expect I’ll continue watching Line of Duty this evening, while mi novia attends a “girls” gathering with friends. I may brine a pork loin this evening and roast it tomorrow in our as-yet unused new oven. If I had sufficient energy, I would clean the smoker so I could smoke the meat tomorrow, but that would take enormous amounts of energy (since I haven’t cleaned it since the last time I smoked something…at least a year or two ago). Ach! I seem to be getting increasingly lazy as I age. I seem to be mellowing at the same time, which is a good thing, but the simultaneous lethargy is unwelcome.
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When my pain of unknown origin overwhelms the fentanyl and hydrocodone, I try to sleep my way through it. Unrestrained escapism, though, might be worth a try. Actually, I suspect many of my dreams are expressions of unrestrained escapism, though that did not occur to me until just now. Until a moment ago, my first thoughts about unrestrained escapism revolved around the practice I’ve read about in which people in groups take on the identities of imaginary space aliens, “acting out” their way to unbridled escape. That particular activity holds no appeal for me, but dreams in which I am alone in the desert in the wee hours of very early morning, watching the stars, may provide me with a similar escape. It’s odd, now that I think about it, that I have no recollections of pains in my gut and back before my diagnosis of cancer’s recurrence. Since then, though, pains have slowly taken hold, becoming increasingly common within the last six months (or maybe the last year?) or so. Lately, the drugs usually keep the pain in control, within tolerable limits. I have a fairly low threshold for pain so when I feel no pain I tend to be ecstatically happy about it. I wonder, though, whether this more recent pain is any worse than its identical twin would have been three years ago? The fact that it’s related to cancer may have the psychological effect of making it sometimes seem worse than it really is.
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At this very moment, I feel intensely sad that my life will likely be cut short by cancer. That emotion has not intruded on me much until just now. I am not sad about my own future, just the emotional trauma it will inflict on people to whom I matter and who matter to me. I wish we (humans) could accept death as a simple matter-of-fact and not experience our losses as painful. Far easier said than done. I hear myself thinking, though; perhaps I can think myself into accepting the world as it is.
