I woke late (after 6:30) this morning, for the second consecutive day. That kind of unintentional adjustment to my morning routine seems to compress my day—as if time is snatched away from me as an unrecoverable, permanent loss. There is no such thing as “making up for lost time.” Lost time is equivalent to a piece of eternal emptiness; a place that could have made enormous differences in one’s lifetime, but leaves an immeasurable void, instead. Lost time leaves the unimpeachable assertion that “you’ll never know what you missed.”
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A tiny segment of the sky, bright blue and cloudless, is visible to me but I can tell that the sun is hidden—presumably by clouds—in other parts of the sky. My understanding of certain aspects of the sky is based on experience, although I cannot claim to have experienced every possible point of view. I allow myself to make assumptions based on extremely limited “facts.” My assumptions are correct, more often than not. But if they weren’t…what, then? Would I run in circles, screaming in rage and distress? Would the circumstances facing me be equivalent to the ones with which I would have to deal in conditions of lost time? The sky’s effect on certain trees is now suggesting that the clouds hiding the sun have moved. Paying attention to one’s environment can be educational. Or it can lead to delusions.
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Yesterday’s chemotherapy treatment was short and uneventful. But I learned that I will be expected to visit my oncologist next Monday afternoon, after my PET-scan. The appointment will not be scheduled; I am expected to just “pop in” to see her after the morning scan (and lunch)…and possibly after a brief follow-up visit with the radiologist who managed my recent radiation treatment. I prefer to have specific appointment times; I suppose my preference suggests that order or regimentation appeals to me over chaos or turmoil. I wonder whether a cancer patient’s personality type has (or should have) a bearing on the treatments an oncologist recommends?
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I am awfully tired. I could sleep again. My thought processes have been hijacked by a brain that heretofore has been unknown to me. Oh, it’s my brain…just a part of it that prefers to remain hidden. It is observable. Only shy.
