I met a man this weekend. He asked me about my cancer. He told me he had lost his wife two years ago to breast cancer. Her name was Marilyn. And according to him she was a fearless and graceful fighter. He said to me: "You know....I'm going to find you in six months to check in. My guess is you're going to be amazing." And for a second, I believed him. And today, right now....I want to believe him.
It's no secret that my 2012 has been one massive shit sandwich, served with a side of fermented potato salad. And I don't know if it's the end of year reflection, the sixth of 17 radiation treatments, my upcoming move, or the return of my pubic hair that is causing me to reflect....but reflect I am...And with all this reflecting, I have some pretty big feelings attached. Like, big, scary, want to kill everyone in my path emotions...Seriously, you should have seen me stare down this nutty woman at Nordstrom the other day. Her transgression? Trying to cut me off as I approached the escalator. I mean, I hate that. Don't you? She replied: " You know, I should expect behavior like this during the holidays." It took every fiber of my being not to reach over and punch her in the face. And by punch, I mean Quentin Tarantino style with nice kick to the nose just to finish the job right.
No. I'm not making Santa's "nice" list this year. Fortunately I have a thing for coal.....
I realized that for the past seven months I've been in this weird automated state- not really feeling anything- but moving efficiently from one task to another, not missing a damn beat; appearing to the unsuspecting onlooker, like I was kicking ass and taking names. But guess what? The lights WERE on and I was NOT home. (And, yes I DID kick ass but neglected to write down any names except for a couple...YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE...)
That is a crazy realization. And my re-entry into "Feelings" world has been anything but pleasant. I think this is due in part to the change in my perspective. I'm horribly impatient and wildly intolerant of just about everything....why yes, I AM the life of the party. And if you think I had trouble holding my tongue before, honey just ask my baby daddy how well his second butthole is healing...But the other big thing that has happened is that my skin is really thin....No, not just physically, like due to the medication. More like, I feel things physically and emotionally more acutely than before. I'm so sensitive to things around me that my TEETH even hurt....
Now the practical gal in me did the smart thing- for the physical discomfort, I bought tons of cashmere to wrap my wounded, sore and healing body up in. That was GENIUS! I freaking LOVE that stuff to the extent that I even sleep in it....But you know, there really isn't any kind of emotional cashmere out there to wrap up all these crazy ass feelings. I mean, I even looked into a yoga/spiritual retreat center in Hawaii. And I quickly realized it probably wouldn't be a good fit as some dumb ass would say something to me about opening my third eye or breathing through my eyelids and then all hell would break loose...Also, all of the food was raw. What the HELL?
So what to do? Turn to Lance Armstrong for advice? See how well that turned out for him..... I do have some dreaded inner voice droning in the background that I should seek out some sort of cancer therapy group. But, really? First off, I suck at group therapy. And secondly, Lymphoma doesn't even have a ribbon like all the other cool cancers.
I'm stuck wondering- is there some group out there for me? Or do I just hang out and wait for this prophet-like dude to show up in six months and declare me amazing? My guess is there's a third, unexplored option. But honestly, maybe I just need the right country western song would come along with the answer. I mean, there is just so much insight into those things....
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