Wednesday marked the sixth of eight chemo sessions, the beginning of August and some other subtle changes in my psyche. There are a few lines that keep dancing around my head these days: The first is that I am now starting to feel like I’m doing the endurance part of the proverbial chemo run. I love to trail run, but I do it because I love it, and I have never professed to be a long distance runner. There’s a strange bit of truth to this across the board in my life, which is worthy of some thought on my part. I often stop a tough run just before the end of it, and walk the last bit. I almost always leave a bit of food on my plate, even if I’m totally capable of eating all of what’s there. I leave crafts unfinished, scraps of fabric and half-knitted projects stuffed into bags and buried deep in closets. I have countless partially-read books littered and piled around my house. I am known to wash, dry and neglect to fold laundry until the ‘laundry mountain’ threatens to take over the room. Let’s not even talk about relationships and this pattern – certainly on the few occasions that I have committed to going the long haul with someone, it has ended in some pretty spectacular heartache for me.
Gasp. Am I really such a non-finisher?
Not an option at this particular junction. I need to dig deep and summon the energy needed to see this run through to the finish. Where do I start? If I decide today that I’m going to finish that last bit of toast on my plate, will that magically translate into some strengthening of character, create some resolve in other areas of my life?
More soon. I’m off to fold some laundry with my achy-numb hands. And today I’ll eat my crusts from breakfast and start with that.