Life truly is broken up into segments… before and after, before and during, yesterday and today, today and tomorrow, etc. At the same time, life truly is prescribed catch phrases, quotes and Pinterest ideas. Every part of life is neatly packaged up for relatability, understanding and lessons learned. Life just isn’t that neat and simple.
Am I guilty of using this packaging lingo? Absolutely. I love Pinterest, quotes and poems – any language that can try to describe the complexities of the heart and soul. My two favorite quotes/quips were, “I’m a tough old bird” and “I will just pick myself up by the bootstraps and keep going.”
However, what I am learning as I face the “prover” part of my personality is that many lovely word choices are most often used as affirmation, but they are not always used with personal conviction. How can I explain? The phrases and quotes came easily to help comfort others about my diagnosis and prognosis, but they did little to reassure me. There just didn’t seem to be a good place to ask the tough questions or express fears… where could I have said, “I don’t want to die.” The doctor’s office? No, we were always talking treatment plans, expectations, possible side effects, and frankly reacting to what the poisons were doing to my body. Home? No, I couldn’t express that to My Core Four. They needed comfort and hope. My Parents? Certainly not. In some ways, they needed the most comfort and encouragement.
The result of living moment by moment, reacting to the side effects of the chemo, constantly altering treatment plans, encouraging others, offering hope, and trying to literally survive…for me, the result was creating a growing anxiety that has taken root in my soul. The best way I can describe it is sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Sixteen years of waiting for the other shoe to drop.
So many shoes that I can’t remember when the first one dropped! Life as a survivor and clinical trial participant means that it’s never quite over. There are always tests, new symptoms, new doctors, etc. All this while life continues to go on… It’s paradoxical living at it’s best. (Yup, that’s my sarcasm screaming loud and clear.) My Core Four lives this every day… when is “THE” shoe going to drop. I don’t recommend this type of limbo, not at all.
Now let’s factor in the pandemic of COVID-19 where everyone around me now lives how My Core Four lived during my treatments and isolation. So. Many. Memories. So. Much. Anxiety.
Today I sat in yet another specialists office, waiting for tests, breathing through “the look” of technicians who left the room to go and get the doctor. Sigh… Even though this happens often, it has never become normal.
Another shoe drops.
Yet…
Here is what I’m learning: Love. Gratitude. Joy. These are what I try to lead with and lean into. It’s not the number of shoes that I have, it’s the actual time that I have to live this gift of life.
The Time that is Given 