Yesterday was ok.
I am feeling better. One of the ways I cope with bad stuff (for example, the 40% possibility of further metastasis) is by running to the dark edge and kicking a few rocks over. This can be mistaken by the casual observer for wallowing or obsessive negativity, but I think of it more as beating the bounds. Know where the borders of fear are, then go back to my center and keep an eye out.
In the mean time, I’ve made an ophthalmological appointment to go with my various cancer followups, dental appointment and foot appointment. Colonscopy scheduler is supposed to call me today or tomorrow. So, assuming I don’t have foot cancer, glaucoma, rotten teeth, recurrent metastases or an aggressive return of my primary cancer, I’ll be fine for a while. Getting all this done before heading for Australia and New Zealand in late August with
It is true, in a deep sense, that I no longer expect to live to be old. When I say this, I don’t mean, “ZOMG, I’m going to die!!!” Rather, I used to just unthinkingly assume I’d tick along into my 70s or something then deal with the issues of ailments and eldering. Now I recognize that each day, each year, is a gift. Time is something I will never get back. My personal clock echoes very loudly in my soul.
Another truth is that even if I lived to be 112 in perfect health, I’d never accomplish everything I’d like to. This seems like a liberating insight to me. I am free from at least certain expectations. This lets me focus on what I want to do, and sometimes (such as chemotherapy) what I have to do.
So I don’t think I’m going to live to be old. I just think I’m going to live. If I get old in the bargain, well, bonus. If not, every day between now and whenever the ride ends is a good day. Somehow.