Practice living in the moment

I was going to start with saying that I don’t feel much like writing. That’s not necessarily true. I feel the need to write, to purge my shit on paper, but I don’t want to appear as if I don’t have my shit together. So I feel vulnerable, different, outcast.

I thought that this blog would be all about me living life after a diagnosis of cancer, a prognosis of too little time, and kicking its ass with chemotherapy and a healthier lifestyle. I thought I would only be writing about all the cool shit I am seeing and doing and being a part of because I have this new lease on life. (That is an interesting phrase, eh? Leases expire. Lives do too.)

I have a scan coming up. Before the last couple of scans, during chemotherapy, I went into this process of vacillating between fear and faith. Here I am again. I am not sure how to describe how it came about, except that it was came unannounced, it was sudden, and it literally filled my entire being with tense, wound-up-tight, gripping fear. From that second, I spent the next however-many days until we saw the doctor for the scan results in complete fear of all the what-ifs that my head could conjure up. I picture conjuring up something as taking some serious effort on the conjurer’s part… my head was working. Working hard to give me heavy, ugly, lonely doom and gloom. My head works… present tense.