Two more days will bring me to the first anniversary of my cancer-posts! And funnily enough, here I sit, post cancer. What an interesting play on words… something I have always enjoyed doing. In fact, my very first post – one year ago in two days – was all about “Words”. Check out the link to this post by clicking on this link: Words
My husband and I have crafted our skills at puns over the years – and we have practiced enough that we have actually become quite good. People marvel at our speed while, in reality, it’s just we’ve already gone through the creative motion and now we just need to re-call the puns.
Tree puns seem to be the easiest for us:
- you’re barking up the wrong tree
- that’s rough
- I’m tapped out
- leaf me alone…. and so on.
I have to confess it is so nice to be able to play with words again. This ability is something that I will not soon take for granted again. I lost it during chemo. I struggled with words so much that one night while speaking with my daughter I created a new words that would be used generically to say “anything”. When I said, “super-chef”, Katya knew I could not find the right word and that term would be used instead.
Juxtapositions was a post that also played on words. How odd it was to me that people were able to see such different sites to the same issue. I still marvel on how one’s attitude towards something can alter one’s response to something so dramatically.
For me, cancer has been a mixed blessing and a curse. It is not something that I would wish for anyone in that it is scary, can be ugly, and is of course life – threatening. Yet, it has slowed my life down to the degree whereby I “see” things. I actually see things. This past week-end, I was brought to tears by the overwhelming beauty of a moment. There was really nothing that I would have ever thought to be spectacular – in my previous fast-paced life. I was enjoying dinner with friends. We were sitting on a picnic table outside. It was almost dusk. It was quiet. We were chatting about life. I turned away to look at the trees – for only one moment – when it hit me. Time began to rush. I did not want this to happen. I tried to open my eyes wider in an effort to take a snapshot of this moment, but I just couldn’t get it. I was terrified the moment would escape me. I was terrified the beauty of that moment was leaving and I’d miss it. I didn’t want to miss it. I didn’t want to close my eyes. I was over-whelmed.
Life is so ephemeral. If you blink, you miss something. I had missed so much of life before cancer. I had not opened my eyes to the moments. There were there, but I hadn’t bothered to look. Now, I look. Maybe I stare for too long? Is there a risk associated with doing that? Am I over-thinking and not living? I find these two things difficult to balance.
Two days to go until the anniversary of my first post. Is there a significance to that? Am I looking for too much? Reflecting too much? If I don’t reflect, then how can there be meaning? “Words” escape me, yet, “life” does not. I live slowly, still, time seems to speed up. The more I try to slow down, the faster I go. And so it seems – that – one year later my preoccupation with words has now transitioned to a preoccupation with time. I mark it. I rejoice in it. I try to manipulate it. All in all – I appreciate it. Maybe I will let this preoccupation pass – in time. Something, no doubt, in me will “tick”.