Leaving the Box
"Perhaps all pleasure is relief."
- William Burroughs
It was this quote that came to mind several times during this whole ordeal. Once, last week when I discovered that my AFP markers were at 5, well within normal range, and thus I was cancer free. Another time was after taking a particularly painful shit. Now I understand why childbirth provides so much pleasure. Its the pleasure of "Finally!! The unbelievable pain is starting to go away!!!"
And after that, its amazing how quickly everything else stabilizes.
I was on the bus last week, heading to work, and my phone started buzzing. I knew who it was, and didn't waste a second thinking about what the news could be, I picked up apprehensively and cringed "hello" into the phone.
A few seconds later.
"What? I'm okay??" I was shocked and... alarmed and ecstatic. Even being optimistic can't prepare you for the joy that is normal alpha feta protein levels. Excitement grabbed me by the face and pulled me off the train. Don't listen to people who think it's a good idea to expect the worst so that if it turns out okay you'll be pleasantly surprised. Trust me, there is no way of magnifying the intensity of emotion I felt at that moment. Pure uncut relief. Flowing to every part of my body. I wanted to scream. I wanted to stomp on the ground and reach into the sky. I wanted to get wasted beyond recognition, run through the streets naked and bleeding. I wanted to punch a hole through a windshield, tears streaming down my face.
Instead I smiled. My feet managed to get me across the street and 10 minutes later I was at work, glowing and raving to my co-workers about the good news. 2 hours later it was like it all hadn't happened.
With chemotherapy you get to enjoy an accurate time-line. The doctor places you on the line and points, "There! That is where you have to go! Just make it to there, and you'll be okay!" So you walk and walk and walk, and eventually you make it. Then you get picked up and tossed back into the real world, with its uncertainty and unfathomable length. Back to being an adult. Back to a more complicated existence.
Let's say it requires a certain reframing of priorities.
But make no mistake about it, not a single bit of me wants to go back in the box.
- William Burroughs
It was this quote that came to mind several times during this whole ordeal. Once, last week when I discovered that my AFP markers were at 5, well within normal range, and thus I was cancer free. Another time was after taking a particularly painful shit. Now I understand why childbirth provides so much pleasure. Its the pleasure of "Finally!! The unbelievable pain is starting to go away!!!"
And after that, its amazing how quickly everything else stabilizes.
I was on the bus last week, heading to work, and my phone started buzzing. I knew who it was, and didn't waste a second thinking about what the news could be, I picked up apprehensively and cringed "hello" into the phone.
A few seconds later.
"What? I'm okay??" I was shocked and... alarmed and ecstatic. Even being optimistic can't prepare you for the joy that is normal alpha feta protein levels. Excitement grabbed me by the face and pulled me off the train. Don't listen to people who think it's a good idea to expect the worst so that if it turns out okay you'll be pleasantly surprised. Trust me, there is no way of magnifying the intensity of emotion I felt at that moment. Pure uncut relief. Flowing to every part of my body. I wanted to scream. I wanted to stomp on the ground and reach into the sky. I wanted to get wasted beyond recognition, run through the streets naked and bleeding. I wanted to punch a hole through a windshield, tears streaming down my face.
Instead I smiled. My feet managed to get me across the street and 10 minutes later I was at work, glowing and raving to my co-workers about the good news. 2 hours later it was like it all hadn't happened.
With chemotherapy you get to enjoy an accurate time-line. The doctor places you on the line and points, "There! That is where you have to go! Just make it to there, and you'll be okay!" So you walk and walk and walk, and eventually you make it. Then you get picked up and tossed back into the real world, with its uncertainty and unfathomable length. Back to being an adult. Back to a more complicated existence.
Let's say it requires a certain reframing of priorities.
But make no mistake about it, not a single bit of me wants to go back in the box.
posted by sleepwithoutdreams at 10:52 PM
1 Comments:
I don't know who you are - but I hope your journey towards health is over and has left you stronger ... stronger than you were before and stronger than most people will ever achieve in one lifetime. But I just wanted you to know that your posts brought me both laughter and comfort. While I myself don't own a pair of testicles, I know what it's like to have the right to get whacked on the weekend taken away from you at an age when it seems like a God given right. I know what it's like to have to choose health (and ultimately your life) over other things that used to be so much fun. It's not easy but I can feel the whole experience making me stronger and I was inspired by your posts to try to find more humor in the situation. It actually is kind of funny that if you saw me out at a bar right now, I'd have a bottle of water in one hand and carrots/almonds/some kind of vegetable in the other - a new meaning to double fisting. You'd also see me leave early and go to bed at 10pm. More than getting whacked, I can't wait to not feel like a grandmom again. I'm two steps away from even trying to go out... maybe I'll get a Friday lineup of jeopardy, wheel of fortune, and murder she wrote going - but that's not my style. Anyway, I also think you have an incredible talent for writing - so if you have any other blogs about life floating around out there I'd love to read them. Peace, love, and all the above!
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