Rapids & Waterfalls

Posted: May 19th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: cancer girl, EMRIM, MonChérie | Comments Off

:::Cancer Girl slumps down into her new beach chair while taking a break on her houseboat’s back deck.
The phone rings, again, for the umpteenth time:::

   Usually, writing for me just flows. This past week I’ve found myself struggling with even sitting down to write. I’ve finally forced myself to sit down and do it today. Writing is a means of processing and expressing what is swirling around inside my consciousness — I had to do this. This particular blog session started as a string of click/drag/deletes. I know why too. I’m angry.
   Plain and simple, I’m angry!! I’m angry with the intrusion this disease has had upon my life. I’m also angry with the inconveniences it has spewed into my life and the lives in my village. But, I’m especially angry with the insurance industry. (This particular pool of anger is still brewing and is probably a rant best saved for another day.) Thankfully though, I’m either strong enough or logical enough to admit that I’m angry. In doing so, I’m not letting the anger escalate to the point that I’ll implode and/or redirect it onto others. I’ve come to recognize that my anger is the primitive ignition spark of my coping warrior spirit.
   Thank goodness, for me, writing also helps. If you too have cancer, I would encourage you to keep a private journal. Writing out your feelings can help you process them. It can help save you from pouring gallons worth of deep emotions upon loved ones, just some drips and drizzles instead. =;>
   Life experience and logic has taught me that life flows on, like a river. We can try our best to stop it from flowing, but we can’t. We are going to get sucked into some eddies that just can’t be avoided. We’re going to hit some varying degrees of rapids. And, we’re more than likely going to have to face some waterfalls. My getting angry isn’t going to change a damn thing — but at least if I face it, I can flow more freely.

In my dreams … The “MonChérie” 

   My metaphorical houseboat, the “MonChérie,” on the river of life hit a set of Class V white water rapids back when I got Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue. The houseboat got bashed around quite a bit, but she’s been floating along pretty well since. I learned to patch her up with logic, courage and a thankful heart. And, upon receiving the biopsy news last month, I knew I had hit another patch of strong rapids — the “Biopsy News” rapids.
   For the most part I think I’ve done a pretty good job of getting stuff back up on “MonChérie’s” shelves after passing through the “Biopsy News” rapids. She had been anchored to a fairly peaceful spot until I had to face down EMRIM. After the MRI news, her anchor broke loose and since then she’s been steadily cruising down an increasingly swift current — straight towards the “Cancer Treatment” waterfall. This Friday, cancer treatments will be discussed with Keith, my doctor and myself.

Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!”
Betty Davis in “All About Eve”

   As soon as you’ve heard the words, “you have cancer” there is no point of return in regard to this waterfall. You can’t paddle back up stream and ignore it or avoid it. Not a good plan of contingency.
   Those of us aboard the “MonChérie” will need to place our best bets for maintaining our quality of life in the following: To flow along; hang on tight; keep a thankful heart; admit to and face our emotions; remember to embrace silliness; and, enjoy the ride the best we can with each other.

:::The phone replicates itself a pair of legs, swims back to the “MonChérie,” climbs back up on deck,
shakes the water off like a dog & settles down under Cancer Girl’s beach chair:::
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