Last night, I sat on the sofa shortly after Reuven came home. The house was quiet with all the children gone off, or away. At moments like this, our minds can stop churning and start thinking, slowly. And suddenly it hit me:
In January, very soon after I was diagnosed with what looked like a definate death-sentence at the time, I regretted that I had not been to Israel for so long. Our ties there are long and deep and it would be a 'miss' to die without going back. I told Reuven that if I got better, our first trans-Atlantic trip was going to be there.
The last 8 months have been an amazing journey and one does not always have time to stop and truly absorb the experience. Yesterday, we booked our tickets to Israel. And last night, sitting on the sofa, the significance of these tickets began to sink in.
The emotion that sweeps over me when I begin to think of what it means to have bought these tickets is overwhelming. I wouldn't dare try to ennumerate the various aspects of my thoughts and feelings, because they are much greater than my mind can process into words. All I can say is 'cry with me a little' and thank you for my life.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
growing up is painful (and all that)
Somewhere, in the gap between surgery and the start of radiation, I experienced a mild panic.
In about 2 1/2 week's time, I will be finished with chemotherapy, surgery and radiation. All over. And....., a little of that panic has returned.
I realised today that all this 'therapy' gave structure to my life. What do you do all day? I go to treatment, I feel well / not well, I lie in bed or get tests done, I see doctors, nurses, technicians, I am tested and tested and tested. It's all about the doing of getting healthy. All of that is about to disappear.
It's like a student who graduates, or a soldier back from war overseas, only to find that facing the world is a huge, crazy challenge. You have to take charge, be responsible for who you are outside of being a patient and what you do with your life. End the dependence. Grow up.
It's amazing how easy it was to sink into that status of being cared for. Gosh, all that support!! Soon I will have to learn to stand on my own two feet. Quite a daunting challenge. Who would have thought that getting back to a normal life would feel so strange? Panic at 55.
Just as it will take some adjustment to life without treatment, it will take some adjustment to get back to being a person whose identity does not revolve around being sick. A sick person who swims! Amazing! Awesome! A normal person going for a swim? Totally mundane, who cares? Woody Allen makes a joke of a chap who is fetted as a celebrity for no good reason. Reporters and the world hang on to his every word. What he eats for breakfast is a national miracle and as for the underwear he chooses.... they all go into ecstasies. Then, a new celebrity catches the public interest and that poor chap is left ignored, unadmired. Well, in a way, it's the same with us ex-sickies. The false celebrity of our illness is drawing to a close. The challenge of life begins.
In about 2 1/2 week's time, I will be finished with chemotherapy, surgery and radiation. All over. And....., a little of that panic has returned.
I realised today that all this 'therapy' gave structure to my life. What do you do all day? I go to treatment, I feel well / not well, I lie in bed or get tests done, I see doctors, nurses, technicians, I am tested and tested and tested. It's all about the doing of getting healthy. All of that is about to disappear.
It's like a student who graduates, or a soldier back from war overseas, only to find that facing the world is a huge, crazy challenge. You have to take charge, be responsible for who you are outside of being a patient and what you do with your life. End the dependence. Grow up.
It's amazing how easy it was to sink into that status of being cared for. Gosh, all that support!! Soon I will have to learn to stand on my own two feet. Quite a daunting challenge. Who would have thought that getting back to a normal life would feel so strange? Panic at 55.
Just as it will take some adjustment to life without treatment, it will take some adjustment to get back to being a person whose identity does not revolve around being sick. A sick person who swims! Amazing! Awesome! A normal person going for a swim? Totally mundane, who cares? Woody Allen makes a joke of a chap who is fetted as a celebrity for no good reason. Reporters and the world hang on to his every word. What he eats for breakfast is a national miracle and as for the underwear he chooses.... they all go into ecstasies. Then, a new celebrity catches the public interest and that poor chap is left ignored, unadmired. Well, in a way, it's the same with us ex-sickies. The false celebrity of our illness is drawing to a close. The challenge of life begins.
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