Snow Day

HEALTH UPDATE: Open Distal Pancreatectomy and Splenectomy scheduled for February 12, 2024.

Ramblings…

This feels so unusual. Something I used to do so often and so quickly. So easily. Writing and sharing has become a distant friend to me. I still love the friend and for every additional word that is written, it feels more and more like no time has passed at all but I cannot explain the disconnect. What has changed?

The year 2023 went by so fast. There are different categories in my life. Family, friends, events. One category that has barged it’s way to the forefront. The health category. Isn’t this what my life has become all about? Health? I’ve never had the luxury of not thinking about my health, being a self diagnosed hypochondriac and all. But this new realm of hyper focus on my health is growing to be ridiculous and beyond all consuming.

As I sit here on the first snow day of 2024, it’s time to dissect what the actual fuck is going on inside my head. Maybe it will help me to reunite myself with writing. I know in the past, writing has been my greatest release. My answer to all things unsettling and misunderstood. I know that it was my therapy. What happened? I almost think that I’ve been too far gone to even concentrate long enough to figure it out. I needed a push and that happened this morning.

I’ve lived under a security blanket of scans, blood tests, my miracle concoction treatments and constant follow up since the beginning. I lie here shivering as my blanket is gone for now. My list of future appointments has never been so small. It’s SO WEIRD. Tomorrow would have been my surgery date. I could have made it this long. From my last treatment, until now. No problem. It’s logical for me to dismiss any possibility of something inside me going wildly wrong in a matter of weeks. But now. Covid, you suck ass. But now. I need to wait another month for surgery.

There is a feeling under my rib. Left side. It’s alive. A pain in my leg. They are weak like it used to be when I just started my recovery. It’s spread. I’m not hungry. Something is wrong. My tummy is so bloated. Ascites? Again? Old symptoms are returning. Are they? Is this all in my mind? I’m telling you. The mind fuckery is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. All it takes are pains and a snow day. It’s a perfect storm that offers time to reflect just how paranoid I am about my health.

My visitation to this therapy has not let me down. I think I know what I need to do. I need to remember that it could be much worse. I need to focus on the now and that I am OK in this moment. While the snow storm has me currently trapped inside, like the thoughts of cancer raging within, I need to break free! That can only mean one thing. I’m going for a walk. A Little House on the Prairie style walk. The episode where Miss Beadle let the kids leave school early because it was Christmas and they got caught in a blizzard. The Ingall girls made it home but they had a tough walk. Wind, snow, cold. I need that. A slap in the face, of cold pelting snow. Wake up! You are still here! Fuck this cancer! It does not own me!

Time to face the pain of the cold to warm my heart and soothe my fears.