upchuck

my body, forced far into the deepest corner it has seen in recent history, finally succumbed today and hit the reboot switch. following a meager morning of instant breakfast and various attempts at hydration, i had myself a coughing fit and found myself looking at said "meal" and "gatorade". i had been fearful of this moment for the past few days. somewhere deep down i think i knew it was coming. i really wanted for it to stay buried, but as with nearly everything else i've learned via my relationship with cancer, sometimes i just have to let my body do what it wants. i usually get my way, why shouldn't it? luckily i anticipated the restart and had ample time to prepare - no mess to clean up, just the mental anguish and childish embarassment of having done the deed. my face burned, i immediately thought about how, oh shit, now i have to re-drink those ounces of fluid, why hadn't i absorbed them yet, i am dehydrated, afterall. i went to my bed, snuggled under a blanket and cried. this is never any fun. as i eeked out a few tears, though, i realized, well, maybe i am feeling a bit better. yes, yes, the burning in my gut and into my esophagus has subsided somewhat. maybe i can sleep on my side for a bit. god, my body is smart. s-m-r-t. i am so smart. so you see, sometimes the worst part can be good. i napped for an hour and was back on my feet. well, my butt. not big on using my feet this weekend. i've eaten some snacks and had some fluid and even braved a car ride around with mom, buying some little goodies for my chemo angels and smelling the fresh air - is everyone mowing their lawn today? thank you, if so. it smells so damn good out there. enough to make a person feel alive again, really alive.

on our drive we drove down a road near my apartment. for some reason, the way the light was shining on the yellow rocket in the field and the roll of the gentle hills, it made me really sad. maybe not sad. emotional. pensive. scared. nervous. you see, that road is part of my "short" loop, a run i do in the evenings when i just need to squeeze one in for sanity's sake. it is short, but the hills are tough and the wildflowers are reason enough to get out on it - they bloom consistently from now until october. the last time i went running there was the day before i found out something was wrong with my ct scan, all the way back in october. it was on those hills in august when i began to realize i was really, really having breathing problems. so there we were, driving along, and all i can think is how badly i want it back. i know, as i repeat again and again, it is going to be different. my body is changed. my mind is as well. these are good things. cancer is gone, so we think, and i say forever, for good. i hate it. stay away. but let me have some of the time before back. is it selfish of me to fear for what i might have lost? if i can't run i can of course walk. i can still make it past the wildflowers and over the hills and smell the freshly cut grass and go out on saturday mornings in the summer before the rest of the world has woken up. i know this and am so thankful for it. but is it asking too much for other details back? too soon to tell. it is a strange crossroads to reach.

i thought i would be feeling rather celebratory as tomorrow grew closer. i am elated that treatments are drawing to a close. but i still have some uncertainty to make my way through. it is not cut and dry. no diplomas are handed out, nothing is certain but everyone knows that is the case, it doesn't take cancer to teach you that.

smiles, hugs, some tears, all that is in order as they seem to have been since the beginning. later in the week, more food, more energy, more comfort. physcially i have a lot of healing to get through, thanks to the marvels of modern medicine.

the upchuck was just the start of it.