Tag Archives: thoughts

Lessons


This week someone told me that I can be a bit negative. I didn’t particularly like to hear that, but it did make me stop and think. And the more I thought, the more I realized that person was right.

It’s been nearly three years since I was in a hold up in a cartel town. I and the people I was with thought it was a cartel hit and that we would die that day. I fled back to the U.S. This week as I looked for military pictures for my work, I had a panic attack. The pictures of soldiers and guns did not bring good memories, and I realized I was still affected, still a bit scared.

It’s been one year, two months, three weeks and four days since I finished my last radiation treatment. This week as I sat waiting for my surgical oncologist to see me, I couldn’t breathe. I realized how angry I still was.

I think often of the fact that I was homeless and jobless, that I can’t find full-time employment now. And then I get angry.

People have told me to look at the bright side- I didn’t die in that hold up. I left Mexico safely even though I had to drive through some of the most dangerous areas. I got cancer, yes, but it was the easiest kind to cure. And when people have said this, I have gotten angrier, and asked them, Why did any of that have to happen to me in the first place? I quit believing that things would work out. I lost my faith in happy endings.

I have raged at the universe for a long time now, asking why. Sometimes, though, the answers aren’t clear. Sometimes you have to create your own so you can come to terms with what life throws at you.

Maybe I had to dance with death a bit to appreciate life.

Maybe I didn’t get that full-time job, so I could learn to slow down and get to know people around me.

Maybe those people were put in my path to teach me a bit more about myself, teach me that maybe I am likable, maybe even lovable. Maybe they will teach me how to trust.

Maybe that part-time job was put in my life so I could discover a career that I love and that I do well.

Maybe circumstances have conspired to teach me that things can work out. When I stop to think about it, things have worked out for me.

And maybe I have it all wrong about happy endings. Maybe it isn’t about endings at all. Life is a continuum. Sometimes it’s good; sometimes it’s bad, but mostly, it’s neutral. So maybe the key to contentment is to embrace the neutral.


Restless


Photo courtesy of morguefiles.

Slumber breaks
Fleeting thoughts dance around the periphery of consciousness.
A befuddled mind grasps tangled memories of stories left untold
propelling thoughts of panic, of what and where and why.

Slumber breaks
Fragmented former selves clamor for attention.
Ephemeral moments between sleep and wake become the platform
For lives once lived and loves long lost
for unfulfilled dreams drowned by stark realities and brutal circumstances.

Slumber breaks
Consciousness bears the demon of unrest on shoulders heavy with despair,
Despondent thoughts hallucinate alternative realities and bearable fictions,
Twisting tales riddled with reprieve.
Frustration dissipates and dreams dominate.

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


One Year Cancer Free


Today is my anniversary. One year ago, they cut out a 1.7 cm malignant tumor. I have been cancer free since then.

I feel good overall. I am physically able to do normal stuff. My mental state, though, has been a bit more affected. I wonder how long it will take me to stop freaking out when the doctor wants to run tests. I still haven’t found my new “normal” state, but I think I am getting there.

At least I know I am not alone with that. I was talking with a co-worker who survived cancer and he tells me it’s always there, flitting around in the back of your mind. My doctor saw me last week, and she told me it takes about two years for her patients to finally move the fear of cancer from the foreground to the background.

So I have two goals this year. One, I want to start trying to push thoughts of cancer from my every waking moment to occasional musing. Two, I am not going to beat myself up if I can’t do that. I will remember it’s a process that every survivor goes through.

I have my one year. That’s really cool.

©2010 Copyright frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com.


My year in pictures


January/February 2010:

March/April 2010:

May 2010:

June/July 2010:

August 2010:

September/October 2010:

November 2010:

December 2010:

All of the photos above are courtesy of morguefile.com

Blog post ©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com.


Drumroll, Please


The verdict is in.
I listened with no reaction as the nurse said,
“It’s benign.”
I hung up the phone and nonchalantly told my family and friends,
“I don’t have cancer.”
No emotion, little reaction, apart from a texted “Yea!”
But there are not enough smiles to express how I feel inside.


Trepidation


Photo courtesy of morgueFile

December 9, 2010
“This is not normal. I’ll need to do a biopsy.”
A fear washes over me. Is it more cancer?

The doctor makes no promises.

I make my next appointment and leave the doctor’s office numb. The biopsy is Monday. The weekend looms before me.

On Friday the numbness gradually turns to fury. I try to contain it, but it slips out occasionally. I look for a distraction, but everyone is busy.  I take a sleeping pill and go to bed early. I just want the days to pass quickly. I need to know.

On Saturday I work. Depression sets in. I don’t call anyone. I don’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. I stare at Netflix all night, then go to bed.

Today is Sunday. The rage returns. I want to throw something, hit something, break something, whip my body around in a frenzy until I drop exhausted. I want to roar my pain.

Instead I stare mutely, looking for distraction.

Tomorrow is the biopsy.

 

 

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


Slip in Time


I was waiting for your call to give me the number I needed.
But I never talked to you, how could I call?
We talked a week ago. I have it in my notes.
No that isn’t possible. I have been waiting for you
to return my call of last week.

I did return your call the same day last week.
But how is that possible? I would have remembered.
We didn’t talk. I know we didn’t.

It’s not a big deal. You can give me that number now.
Oh, but it is…a very big deal.
How does one forget an entire conversation?

 

 

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


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