continuum

inadvertently, the past couple of weeks have flown by. i have spent time alone, time with my family, and time with my friends, and there really hasn't been a moment where i don't consider myself incredibly lucky to be enjoying healing so much. because, when it comes down to it, i am still healing. i remember suddenly when i reach up to take my bike down from the top of the car and pain shoots across the otherwise numb spot at the top of my abdomen. i remember suddenly when i arrive at a hill on a run or a ride, my chest can't suck in enough air to keep me going up, up as quickly as before. i remember suddenly when i lie down in bed each night and drift into a comfortable, deep sleep.

i've been dreaming again, lately, and they have been great dreams. funny. lots of laughing. skiing. last night i dreamt i said "dammit" after every time i coughed, which is kind of what i feel like doing anyway. real life. dream life. it was kind of hard to believe real life wasn't in fact dream life at times in past months. i am feeling so good these days, sometimes i think, for a split second, maybe that WAS dream life.

and of course, i remember, even more suddenly than all other times.

i've been granted a gift, maybe a second chance. call it what you will. today i explained it to someone... i feel like a child must feel during an age when there is incredible physical growth and the childish happiness to go along with it. we all went through it at some point, we just didn't comprehend it at a level where it could be committed to memory. maybe the lucky among us get a chance to experience it first-hand. or unlucky, if you look at it that way.

i read leroy's blog, "my cancer" on npr's website (see link to right). from time to time he or other readers mention that "we" - cancer patients, survivors - are people's worst nightmare, staring right back into their faces. unlucky for sure. if you'd looked into my eyes, 95% of the time, you never would have seen any remorse about a lack of luck. sure, i joked about it, saying "with odds like this"... but, i sincerely believe "we" can be images of people's response to their worst nightmares. the part where they wake up and realize it wasn't a nightmare. the part where they realize, this is life, and it can happen so suddenly. i hope when people looked-look into my eyes they saw - see

hope.

i hope every single day, still, for this all to go right. it is difficult to put into words... as each day goes by and i put more space between me and it, i want more and more to forget, for the edges to grow fuzzy. each time i cough, i hope it is healing. i hope it is cleansing. i hope it is my pneumothorax. anything. just not my worst nightmare, again. i am enjoying time in the waking world so much.

so. the world. my world. my space in it, along my continuum. there is time for everything. there is time for nothing. for everyone (sorry to be a downer, but you could get smacked by a bus, tomorrow). i decided, this week, that i am happy right now (ok, i already knew that). but i am not going to buy a house. i worked too hard for seven months to have life back, delicious, fantastic, slightly-unresponsible life. it takes a sh*tload of responsibility to be a *perfect* patient. so, i am holding off. not that i couldn't do it, but because i like having my room to stretch. dropping what i am doing to do something else, within reason. dinners that melt in my mouth that i didn't cook for myself. ice cream for every meal, if i want. friends near and far, planes, trains, automobiles, bicycles, of course. you know. a plan, but not so planny.

for the weekend, though, a plan: new hampshire. beers are on me. and my hope. and my unresponsible responsibility. the dreams will be even better in the mountain air.