Rest last night has not diminished my fatigue this morning. I should be showering now, but my energy is at one of its low ebbs. If not for my appointment to have “labs” taken by the oncologist’s staff this morning, I would be back in bed, attempting to sleep through the feeling of exhaustion. Yesterday, if I napped, it was brief; I did not feel awfully tired. The only obvious evidence, yesterday, of my body’s response to so damn much healthcare were sore shoulders, sore throat (from the tube in my throat during my chemo-port surgery), and discomfort in my neck (where a tube was stabbed into a jugular vein) and my upper chest (where the surgeon made the incision to insert the port). Today, though, all of the little pains seem to have joined forces with my body’s objections to its cancer-related treatments. I am awake because I have to be awake. I await sufficient energy to shave and shower. One demi-tasse of espresso has not delivered enough vitality, yet, to make a shower seem even remotely appealing. I realize this paragraph is just an extended, embarrassing whine. It’s the best I can do at the moment. Perhaps a whine will spur me to behave like an adult; maybe it will prompt me to drop the grouchy baby act and “man up.” What does that mean? “Man up.” It’s an obnoxious phrase tied to the idea than “real men” should muscle through pain and other unpleasant experiences, rather than express their displeasure with discomfort. I can deal with the discomfort associated with cancer and its treatment; I would just prefer not to. I would prefer to be sedated during the entire process, waking after the cancer has been completely eliminated from my body (and my muscles have been thoroughly toned and strengthened during my extended nap). I would call that lengthy nap an “intentional recuperative coma.” There must be a market for such experiences. I think I would be willing to invest in one. But, as I reflect on reality, I realize my experience with cancer thus far has been far less taxing than many…maybe most…other people. Many people suffer through extreme pain, nausea, and a thousand worse experiences. My experiences are minor—extremely minor—in comparison. I should be, and am, embarrassed to spout all of this “woe is me” nonsense when, in fact, my experiences do not deserve even an acknowledgement. Ach! I should muffle the crybaby and just accept the minor inconveniences associated with the disease and its treatment.
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One is never afraid of the unknown; one is afraid of the known coming to an end.
~ Jiddu Krishnamurti ~
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I have only just encountered Jiddu Krishnamurti. Reading his words has been instructive. Educational. Thought-provoking. I value being forced to think beyond my usual, extensive, almost-overwhelming limitations.
In seeking comfort, we generally find a quiet corner in life where there is a minimum of conflict, and then we are afraid to step out of that seclusion.
~ Jiddu Krishnamurti ~
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I am optimistic, but I am a realist, as well. It is too early to tell how the remainder of my experiences will play out. But it is not too early to consider the possibility that now may be the best time to put the money I set aside for retirement to full use. That is selfish, I know, but what the hell? Yet using that money to make a difference for others may be even more gratifying. Ideally, that money would amount to much, much, much more. And it would have amounted to much more, if I had been thrifty and more dedicated to savings and investments when I was younger. Wither and learn. Time is awash in lessons.
