So. For me, this, right now, is the most difficult part of dealing with my own cancer. The mind fuckery of waiting.
My friend Tom Monks replied to a previous blog with a comment that could be a little Haiku poem:
Waiting for results
Yes. As I remarked to Tom, waiting is such a part of this journey they even have designated spaces for it: waiting rooms.
Unfortunately there is no such space in your head. Bills come due, plans are made, the Holidays happen with or without you.
It is such an exquisite balancing act. Talking down the fear, the angst, the worry. Staying positive in the face of a level of uncertainty that is, at times, almost incomprehensible. Making myself walk and go to the gym regardless of the fact that I already feel a physical diminishment. Rather, going explicitly because I do.
Getting my warrior on even as I look around me with ever greater tenderness; I love this freaking world. Readying myself to battle an enemy who I am familiar with in a way that borders on contempt, and yet still at a loss as to how to go about it.
Trying to be at peace while simultaneously preparing to wage war.
Threading the needle.