Doing the Trick?

My oncologist’s smile yesterday was a delight—she appeared genuinely happy to report to me the results of my Wednesday PET-scan. Although the cancer remains in evidence, the scan revealed that its presence was greatly diminished. Her follow-up written report, posted on the patient portal—tremendous response to therapy—gave me a smile. The treatment for my cancer is not expected to be a permanent cure, but it is being delivered as a means of extending my life for an as-yet-unknown period; a long period, I hope. Several years, if the universe cooperates with me the way I think it conceivably could. We shall see.

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With good fortune like I experienced yesterday, perhaps I should buy a Mega Millions jackpot ticket today, which could yield a lump sum of $413.5 million—$977 million if I were to choose the full payout. I cannot remember the last time I won either a full payout or a lump sum jackpot lottery; I would be happy with either, which would position me to be quite the philanthropist (and obscenely cash-rich, as well). Mi novia and I (and my friends and family and plenty of others) would be able to make a lot of lives far easier. Ah, yes; but in order for this to happen, I will need to buy a ticket—that has always been the obstacle, hasn’t it? I simply must overcome that obstacle today. Otherwise, the winnings will be no more than dreams.

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The factors that are squelching my efforts to write more extensive blog posts are beyond my understanding. I should know better why I am failing to write more—and more interesting—posts, but I do not. Instead, I simply wonder why I am at a loss to know what is keeping me from tapping into greater creativity. Does it have something to do with questions about my health? Might it revolve around anxieties that continue to perplex me? Or is it something completely unrelated? I just do not know. What I know is I am stumbling and bumbling as I try to spark at least a tiny sense of ingenuity, only to witness  embers dim into smudges, turning into whisps of cold smoke in the air. Something must change. And I am relatively sure it will. Eventually. In the interim, I will continue to wish for ashes to catch a breeze that will cause them to spark and burst into a few transformative flames. For now, I will sit at my desk, staring at the dull grey sky outside my windows—not even a whisper of wind to rustle leaves or branches on the trees outside. I see only a two-dimensional still life out there, awaiting a brush with wind to bring the emptiness to life.  Odd, isn’t it, that the thrill I felt with the oncologist’s happiness seems to have withered. Perhaps the recent tornado that ruined so many hundreds of pines and flattened so many acres that once were alive with possibilities just ripped the joy out of the air. Ach! I want to leave this desolation for something else; something alive and promising. How long will it take for the landscape to recover from this miserable desolation?

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More injections today at the oncologist’s office. And more hands full of pills to ward off the pneumonia that has kept me sick lately. When will I feel “well” again? Really well? I feel much better than I have in recent days, but still not as good as I want to feel. Off to have something tasty for breakfast. Maybe that will do the trick.