When I woke up this morning, I had every intention of writing a great essay on presidential politics, classic film and representations therein. It was going to be insightful, informative, relevant, patriotic and stir you to seek out films you may have never heard of before or had forgotten. I still intend on writing it. However, when I sat down this morning and tried to write, all that came out was cancercancercancer fretfret worry blahblahblah cancerfretworry. I tried everything to clear my mind for the task at hand, writing exercises, pictures of cute animals, dog-shaming.com. Nothing worked. Cancercancerfretworry cancercancer holyhellcancer worry fret. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.
I don’t know if it is my impending scan, endless doctor appointments, treatment fatigue, post-holiday breakdown, money worries or all of the above but I can’t shake it loose. It is right there, in the very front of my brain and it will not go away. It pisses me off. I don’t have time to lose to sitting around fretting about the state of things. It robs me of my joy in being alive and that is the one thing which has carried me through this thing, this horror, that has been visited on me.
Joy in living, being content in the moment, is my secret weapon. No matter how bad things get, I hold in myself the memory of all the beauty I have experienced, all the love I have felt, all the kindness alive in the universe. I can call that memory up when I need it, recall the first time I heard Ella Fitzgerald’s voice or the last time someone’s kiss took my breath away. I can reflect on every thing in my past, all the good, all the bad, and I am at peace with it and thankful for it, for it all brought me to this moment when I can be caught up in the greatness of being alive. Except I can’t do that right now and what fresh hell is this?
I have things I want to do, things I want to write, places I want to go. Hell, there is laundry to be done and groceries to be bought but no, it isn’t happening because cancer. Cancer happened and it keeps on happening and I’m ready to be done with it and it with me.
That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.
Maybe I’ll be able to finish that essay by the time the caucuses start for the ’16 race.
January 21, 2013 at 8:55 pm
Cancer sucks, but your writing doesn’t. Keep on churning it out–even if its not what you intended on writing. You have talent!
January 22, 2013 at 3:43 pm
Moving post! Do keep writing…
January 23, 2013 at 9:41 am
You may be physically tired but your writing is full of energy and spirit. It’s ghastly what has happened to you and we all live in terror of it happening to us. But you get more out of one day than most people squeeze out of years. Thanks for reminding us how fortunate we are to be here, alive, today.