Action

The small portion of sky visible from where I sit is dim, but brightening with yellow-beige light.  Trickling through the still-dark leaves and needles covering most of the branches and twigs, the light makes the forest more visible by the second. Before long, the dark brown, black, and sage green branches will become more distinct. Daylight will have conquered darkness again, at least for a while. If I let it, this routine will become just another boring, repetitive circumstance over which I have no control. But if I insist on being amazed by the enormity of the magic of the transition, I will continue to be grateful simply to watch it unfold. My view on these simple but impressive mornings pales in comparison to watching a brilliant red and orange and purple sunrise over a distant mountain horizon. But it will do. And I look forward to the next opportunity to be awestruck by those incredible vistas. When? Sometime. Soon, perhaps. How can I define soon in the context of the immeasurable immensity of Time? Only Time will tell.

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The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.

~ Bertrand Russell ~

I will get out of the house again this morning, but only for a while. My oncologist has a Friday-only office in the Village. where I’ll go to get a post-treatment injection meant to reduce/minimize the risks of infections associated with yesterday’s chemo session. I’ve tentatively set aside all of next week to do my taxes, the filing for which I got an extension. Though I do not need that much time, if I do not call it to my attention by putting it on my calendar, it will be too easy to ignore; I want to avoid the stress of last-minute pressure, so I’d like to get it done sooner rather than at the last minute. The following week, I have “vacation” on the calendar, though the plans for exactly when and where remain up in the air. On one hand, I would love to go on a long, aimless road trip. On the other, a visit to someplace nearby, with opportunities to behave like a typical tourist might be better. Mi novia seems to think my history in recent months of napping a LOT almost every day would make a long road trip an exercise in futility; she would drive and I would sleep, missing most of the travel along quiet country roads that I find so appealing. She’s probably right.

I am getting irrationally frustrated with month after month of what amounts to a minor irritation. Unlike so many people who are dealing with cancer, the disease is not terribly debilitating for me. My complaints are minor in comparison to theirs. Yet so many of them seem far more tolerant of their conditions than I am with mine. I live in privilege, with: someone who cares about and for me; a stable, if modest, income; a nice place to live; more than ample food and water; plenty of amenities; and so many more luxuries. Compared to people who could barely get by before being diagnosed with cancer and now probably are struggling to pay for basic necessities, never mind astronomical cancer treatment bills, I have absolutely nothing to complain about. Nonetheless, I do. It’s embarrassing to realize I know my complaints are so minor in comparison to theirs, yet still I listen to myself bitch about my affliction and its related inconveniences. At least I generally tell people I’m doing pretty well; and, in comparison, I certainly am. I am sufficiently concerned about not wanting to appear to be a perpetual whiner that I try to stifle the urge. That is vanity at play, I think; nothing even remotely related to coping, courage, or care about others’ state of mind. I have been told not to believe that assessment of myself—that it’s not correct—but it seems entirely believable to me, whereas an opposite attitude would strike me as artificial.

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My first cup of espresso is long gone. So is the banana I grabbed before rushing to my keyboard. I will now replenish the black liquid bitterness and try to find something quick and easy to eat to satisfy my minor hunger and my need for plenty of protein. Last night’s dinner of black bean burger patties and salad was the perfect meal; easy to make (though I did not make it) and easy to clean up afterward (though I did not do that, either). I am growing more and more fond of skipping most traditional breakfast foods in favor of something usually considered better suited for lunch or dinner. Leftover spaghetti, for example, or steamed zucchini from the night before or something starchy like an Asian rice dish or potatoes from another meal…something I can doctor-up with soy sauce or oyster sauce or Sriracha sauce or sambal oelek. But there are times when an apple fritter or a jalapeño-laden pastry fits the bill. Enough talk. Time for action.