Being me in the world
This afternoon we spent a while at Mum’s house sorting out etc etc. As much as we clear, it seems that we get nowhere – then, suddenly, you can actually see a bit of carpet, or wall. And the bareness is so sad.
After this, as I was driving Dani to a movie, I was talking to her about my cold and how I hope my chest really will be better for the anaesthetic on Monday. For a split second, I nearly asked why I was going to have an anaesthetic.
I realised then that I had managed to forget about the cancer for a couple of hours. Maybe the timing of this whole thing is not quite so sucky. Maybe it’s all planned: because we have to clear the house, there is so much more to focus on than just my cancer. Maybe, if the timing had been different, I would have been reacting differently. I don’t know.
It’s all still so damn sad, though.
And I really wish Mum was here.
Later this evening, Dani and I were driving home through the wet, dark streets, showing all the evidence of the harsh hail storm that had ravaged the newly-sprung leaves on the trees. There we were, the two of us, chatting, driving – being normal.
And it struck me that this is so damn surreal. Me – I have cancer. It really is me.
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