So Many Feelings

As is my practice when life hands me round two of a something, as I face cancer treatment a second time, I've been trying to make different mistakes.

Long ago, I learned, when in a crisis, to shove my pesky and inconvenient feelings down and out of my way, the better to let me focus in the moment. This method actually works pretty well when powering through said crisis, but once the moment has passed, one of two things has happened. 

Most often, like a spring dandelion, the feelings find a way to pop through. Also like dandelions, they show up in inconvenient places, at times I'd rather not deal with them.

Occasionally, like after Kate's first bout with cancer, I find myself disconnected from them. When this happens, it is as if there is a fine screen between me and my feeling. I can sense there's SOMETHING there, but can't connect to it, can't tell quite what it is. It's a disconcerting, unsettling place to stay.

This time, starting last year when I found Kate's cancer had returned, I'm trying a new path.

Instead of looking at my inner churnings as a threat, I've been trying to stop to listen to them; to hear the message they're trying to convey.

Anxiety? I hear you. There are a lot of unknowns on the road ahead for this year. But as we travel, the way will reveal itself. I have a good medical team guiding my way. They will help me through the unexpected turns of the road.

Betrayal? I hear you. I thought, by getting a double mastectomy the first time I did this, I'd not have to travel this road a second time. Bah, humbug!

Reluctance, Fear of pain? I hear you. Treatment is unpleasant at best. But not treating the growth also leads to pain, so avoiding pain is not one of the options. Know the pain of the treatments will pass, and when it does, you will have bought yourself the possibility of opening your eyes to more good days. 

Fear of dying? I hear you. Cancer kills many people. But so do other diseases, and tomorrow is guaranteed to no one. Can you let this fear sharpen your appreciation of today? Today, you are not dead. Not Yet. Today, open your eyes and see the beauty of the flowers.

Sadness, Disappointment? I hear you. This is not a road to look forward to traveling down; not how you'd planned to spend your days this year. I cry with you.

Anger? I hear you. And agree. Cancer sucks. 

Nervousness? Oh, yeah. I hear you.

Determination? I hear you. I will walk with you. I know this, too, shall pass, and will travel this road one step at a time.

Gratitude? I hear you. As word spreads, my people have reached out. So many offers to help. So many reminders I do not pass this way alone. I am reminded I am loved.

Hope? To my surprise, I hear you, too. There you are, perched in my soul, singing the tune without the words. I am glad to know you are there. 

Surgery is a week from today.