Some days I can almost forget why I started writing this thing. This blog. Such a heavy handed word, blog. It sounds like Grendal’s cousin.
I forget because I can, sometimes. Cruising through the atmosphere. Looking at the photos, writing my comments, forgetting.
It feels good. I wish I had discovered this thing, this blog, when I still had the capacity for fun. Real fun. I wish I could have shown you what I was like.
The thing is, though, is I don’t think I knew what I was like before this. Stupid cancer. This thing. It’s the elephant in the room, here. I can see the pity sometimes. I’m trying to be matter of fact about it. But, I didn’t know either. I didn’t know how many people suffer. I just didn’t know. I thought ‘Oh, cancer. That’s bad.’ Or ‘ So young.’ Or ‘ Wow, her Mom!’ , just cut it off and try not to feel bad. Because there’s nothing I could do.
Then I got it. Really got the damned thing from every angle. Actually and intellectually, I got fucking cancer. Starting from stage 4, with no wriggle room. Starting with ‘ I’m sorry but…’
The best thing about this is that I found out that I was wrong. There was something I could have been doing all along. I could have been helping people like me. Nice, fun, wonderful, creative, loving people like me who just didn’t know what a slap down life can give you. Such a blow. Knowing, this late in life, that I could have done something. Just a little thing.
Like making soup and dropping it off, like Margaret does. Offering me the use of her ocean side hot tub, like Kate does. Giving me a gift card to the grocery store, walking my dog, coming to talk about anything but this thing, a 5lb bag of organic carrots for the juicer, meeting me for a beer at the pub, stopping by with your kid after a swim to eat oatmeal cookies and look at manicures…such little things. They are towering, gigantic achievements to me.
Sitting here at home, I get so tired sometimes, being here. So thank you, my friends. Thank you for overcoming your discomfort and uneasiness in the face of my very obvious, and getting more obvious, illness. Thank you to those people who didn’t know me well, who only heard of my diagnosis and joined together to offer me some solace and relief from my worry and fear. Who bring me wonderful gifts of company, conversation and advice.
Thank you to those of you here, who write such kind words, they really do help me forget. I can look and look and look at all the wonderful world scrolling past me and I can say thank you.
“Memory is the only afterlife I have ever believed in. But the forgetting inside us cannot be stopped. We are programmed to betray.”
― Michael Ignatieff, Scar Tissue
Because sometimes forgetting is the most wonderful thing in the world.