Sunday, March 29, 2009
Cancer, it seems, has become such a part of my life that most days I don't stop and think too much about it and its realities. Being tired, taking horrible medications, traveling to another state to see a doctor on a regular basis, feeling crappy, having less money and more medical bills than I'd like, fear, uncertainty. It's all there, and I am aware of it, but it's been my life for three years and it's become my "normal". So most days I don't stop and examine it all too closely. My life has changed, drastically, and there is nothing that I can do about it except try to remember all that I do have and keep moving forward. But some days it feels like it is all crashing down on me. Some days I look around at others my age and can only see the differences.
I am not at a beginning as so many of my family and friends are, but I am not really at an ending either (at least, I hope not). So where, exactly, is it that I am? Some weird middle area that has no real definition it would seem. Sometimes I feel like I am in a corridor full of doors and as I walk down the hall, door after door closes. Some slam loudly. Others quietly click shut. Still others seem as though I am going to be able to reach them and pass through only to close right in my face. My corridor does, however, have windows that look into each room. I can see, and participate to an extent, in the events behind the closed doors. And that is both blessing and curse. I continue to travel my corridor and I expect that I will someday find, not a doorway that I will be able to enter, but a window that is open... or maybe just a window that I can pry open. And through that window I will find a new path. Maybe a new beginning, maybe an end with a new beginning, but whatever waits through that window is what keeps my feet moving through this corridor of closed door and strange middleness. That window is my hope, but until then, where exactly am I?
More thoughts on this later. Getting late tonight. I must say though, that despite the closed doors and the feeling of displacement, of not belonging, even on the rainiest day there is the hope of an open window.