The CT scan showed that the tumor is shrinking. It’s gone down by about 1 cm.
This should be good news, and it is, but the rise of the celebratory music is dampered by the ongoing knowledge of cancer’s continued presence. I am talking about a lack of trust, a lack of belief in the body’s full capabilities. This lack is not pessimism, but rather the realization that this body can and has betrayed me. Faith in a long future is a vertebrae that’s been removed. One slight hunch is now always impacting movement, tilting each tentative step. It’s a little harder to look up.
“Continue the treatment until it shrinks further.” Then surgery, then recovery.
My old life feels like a harbor from which I drift further away each day.
I do not want to sound sad. There is always coffee, or sunlight.
A friend or a flower.
A note or a text message, laughter, friendship, good books, food, family, naps. You, they, these things:
- are all the antidote.
- are all I need.
And the truth is? We are always pending, are always, like the pendulum,