The crankiness of chemo week

this week is chemo week, meaning on Friday I get chemo. 2.5 weeks of the month, i pretend i am semi-normal, not walking around with a deadly illness inside me, working and kayaking (ok, once), baking, being my regular, odd self.

when chemo week begins, my mood drops a few floors, which is understandable, but this month, my freelance job has ended (i think?) and very suddenly i find myself without a major distraction from the freaky gymnasium of thoughts that tumble through my head all day.

the #1 thing that tumbles through: TIME. tick, tick, tick. none of us knows exactly how much time we have left on the earth, but when you have cancer, you feel it more urgently, you get closer to the reality of it. that's why some of your "friends" and "relatives" drop away, consequently -- because no one wants to get closer to the reality. you're only doing it because you have to.

this thing about time left is all-consuming. you are driving to an appointment for a COVID test and you are thinking, should i start writing "letters to be read after my death" to all my loved ones, or can i just binge-watch "Call My Agent!" all afternoon without guilt?

you are putting dishes in the dishwasher wondering if you really want your husband to remarry after you're gone. in the shower: do i want to be cremated or buried? if the latter, can i be buried with my doc martens?

these thoughts all sound dramatic, but they become commonplace. since march 2019, in varying degrees of intensity, they've been taking up residence in my head. and while i don't want to allow them much time at the internal microphone, how does one counter them?

i can kind of imagine a trip to the Galápagos Islands but i am less certain of it. plus, COVID. harder to make it a real thing that can really truly happen. how does a person picture or otherwise imagine herself living healthily for decades -- in a concrete way? how does that become a strong enough force to replace the thoughts around dying?

that's what i want to do, though. and all those hollow "dwell in possibility!" posters and pillows and cross-stitches and whatnot -- either none of their creators has had any experience whatsoever with a life-threatening illness, or they're content living their lives in accordance with hollow phrases.

unless Possibility is the name of an actual physical location that heals cancer patients on their arrival, please shut up about it. the reality of people with terrible illnesses isn't the least bit helped by sing-song-y, flowery, and ultimately hollow sentiment.

yes i'm cranky and as it's chemo week, i feel especially justified in feeling that way. so pony up some concrete examples of possibility -- or please stop spreading their opposite around. the world has enough useless, mediocre phrases as it is.