Friday, April 18, 2008

When the oxygen mask comes down, put it on and breathe normally

Jerry and I decided when all of this started that we would try to live as normal a life as possible. But someone keeps moving the goalposts.
I'm thinking of this at the end of what was, really, a "normal" week. I went to Pilates and Yoga, to the Y and the library, did some sewing and knitting, threw out a bunch of old teaching materials -- what could be more normal? Banal, even. But if you hold each of these up to the light, it looks different.
Yes, I went to Pilates and Yoga, and enjoyed them. But let's face it, whatever core muscles I once had are long gone, and in both classes I spent a lot of time lying on the mat recovering from things that used to be easy. I have to remember that I'm in a different place from before, and, in any case, Woody Allen says that 90% of everything is just showing up.
The sewing and knitting projects were both cancer-related. I modified the wonderfully inspirational sweatshirt Steve and Jack gave me, and knitted a headwrap. I should make a resolution to create something that has nothing to do with my situation.
I'd been promising myself to throw out the old teaching materials for two and a half years, but now I felt as though I had to explain it to Jerry, to myself, and to anyone else. Really, I'm throwing out stuff because I want to simplify my life and get rid of the non-essentials. Really, I'm not trying to make life easier for anyone who might happen to outlive me. Really.
And then I made arrangements to take the cat to the vet (she's licking her fur out; Jerry says it's a sign of solidarity with me), because on the one hand in normal times that's what you do when your pet has problems. On the other hand, how do I deal with anything extra? Life is already complicated enough. Same with getting my brace modified today. I had to think about it for quite a while: is it worth the expense in energy?
The thing is, no matter what you do, the elephant remains in the living room. You can't ignore it. I guess all you can do is vacuum around it and maybe occasionally use it as a footstool.

1 comment:

amy germer said...

I was reading your blog for my daily inspiration and Finn (5yrs old)came in and asked who that was holding the bananas and I told him about you and who you were. He had lots of questions about cancer and was really interested in the part about how we fight it. I told him you were like having a battle in your body with bad guys and good guys. Then he stop and looked at me and said "Mom, I hope the good guys win".