Monday, January 3, 2011

Limbo

I had a little revelation last night.  I think I'm finally ready to start reading a few of the dozens of cancer books I've received over the past nine months.  I know that every book I was given from friends near and far was a loving and caring gesture, but at the time, earlier in my treatment, I was not ready for them.  Strangely, I think I was in denial.  Cancer books, why would I want these?  They were relegated to my closet in what I called my bag of random cancer crap.  Well, last week, I finally picked one up.  And you know what? It's pretty amazing.


I have a feeling I'll be quoting and referring to this book often in my blog over the next few months.  It's called Dancing in Limbo, Making Sense of Life after Cancer by Glenna Halvorson-Boyd and Lisa K. Hunter.  The gist is this, after the intense period of appointment after appointment during treatment, cancer survivors are often surprised at their feelings of loss, fear, anger, hope and grief.  No shit.  When treatment is complete and successful, all we can do is wait.  We now live our life in limbo.  We are on uncertain ground.


One of the most meaningful passages I have read so far goes something like this:  We cannot escape the fact that we know how vulnerable we are and that others know that truth as well.  I translate this to mean: Your life is forever changed after cancer.  You have seen and experienced what it means to come toe to toe with your immortality.  You understand that your life in particular is delicate, fragile.  And everyone else is aware of this too.


I hate that part.  Everyone who knows my story sees me differently now.  I am more fragile.  My life is more in the balance than most. This is especially hard for me because I've always been strong, physically and emotionally.  Now everyone thinks the opposite of me, at least physically.  And it's true, I can't deny it, but I don't have to like it.


So look at me, I'm finally becoming a little cerebral.  I'm ready to put down my series of TrueBlood dirty, violent vampire books that carried me through treatment.  I'm embarrassed to say that I'm finishing book #10 of the twelve book series.  Well, I've come this far, I may as well read the last two, don't you think? 


While I may not delve too deep into my library of cancer crap books, I think I'm ready to start skimming the cream off the top of a few of them.  There are millions of survivors out there and from what I've read so far, they can definitely teach me a thing or two.  At least a little more than my sexy vampires.


with love from limbo,
k



2 comments:

  1. Virginia Green BranscomJanuary 8, 2011 at 6:07 AM

    Thank you for this insight...I guess we are all in denial about our mortality, and you've had a very emphatic wake up call. It seems that most spiritual and religious ideology urges us to appreciate each moment with gratitude, but it's hard for most of us to remember that. Thank you again for this beautiful reminder! XOXO

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  2. Hi...we met at Butler Park a couple of months ago. My name is Adrienne. You approached me because I had a handkerchief on my head & you wanted to know if I was undergoing chemo. I'm writing because today I went for the 1st walk I could muster up the energy for in 6 months. I was on the bridal path on Central & I think I saw you walking...I wanted to catch up with you & see if it really was you but I was going at a snails pace. I was thinking how ironic it was that I would see you on my 1st day of recovery. I will be walking there often & maybe I'll see you there another time. I hope all is going well for you. Great job on the blog! :)

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