My sanity is precarious on the days when the rollercoaster is headed downwards. It’s an odd mixture of extreme lucidity and visions. My awareness of particular things has become heightened or enhanced, depending on the day or situation. Is it the chemo? Is it myself coming to terms with my true nature? I haven’t decided yet.
For example, driving home from work early the other day, I was overcome with feeling nauseated, exhausted, and tender all over my body. I had these visions of all my ancestors lining the highways I traveled. There were thousands of them. They didn’t say things and I couldn’t pick any of them out in recognition, but I had the reassuring feeling that they weren’t disappointed in me. It was as if each of them persevered and lived their lives so that they could have more kin, like me.
It was an overwhelmingly loving situation, like a group of celestial blood-related cheerleaders.
And no, I did not crash my car.
Sometimes it feels like I have bonds around my wrists. No matter how elastic and forgiving they feel, they are still there. There are days when I almost forget that I have cancer, just in how I feel and in my attitude. A look in the mirror or at my day planner, and I’m transported back to reality. It’s easy to feel frustrated, much like a kid in the backseat of a car during a road trip.
Are we there yet? Aren’t we friggin’ there yet?
I’ve already envisioned myself breaking out of the bonds and in a way I’m a bit nervous. I’d liken it to coming out of prison, going on parole, and trying to assimilate back into society.
I already get odd looks now because of the way I appear to people. Once I’m fully acclimated, will I have to explain myself? As it is, my personal chronology can be delineated into BC: Before Cancer, and AC: After Cancer. Will cancer be the elephant in my corner?
In attempts to reconcile my apathy during this slump with a more positive outlook, I’ve resorted to wearing a rubber band around my wrist. I found out via Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips by Kris Carr that rubber bands are used in cognitive behavior modification for people grappling with addiction, depression, and other ailments and disorders. The idea is that once a negative thought or need for something negative arises, you snap the rubber band on your wrist so that it triggers a little jolt to your brain with its accompanying pain. It’s important to note that severe pain is not the goal here. The goal is to send an impulse to the brain to self-correct your thoughts and behaviors. It also makes you more cognitively aware of your urges and pulls you back to the present.
Thus far, I’ve noticed that it has helped me in the days when I’m feeling quite down and sorry for myself. I’ve also noticed how little I use it on some days, which makes me feel secure about my own attitudes during this journey. Some days I won’t wear it because I know I won't be self-defeating. However, during the slump days this past week, I found myself snapping at it more than a few times during an hour’s period.
At this point, you might have an image of me sitting in a corner with an elephant snapping away at a rubber band like a mad woman surrounded by celestial beings.
You might not be far from the truth.
However, if there is one thing I’ve learned about cancer is that you just fall in line with its cadence. You just let it make you feel what you need to feel.
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