"Darling, I'm a nightmare, dressed like a daydream."
I’ve been walking my parents’ dog while we’re staying with them. If the weather isn’t terrible and if my energy cooperates, Willow and I make the short trek up to a nearby park to walk around the pond. Willow watches for squirrels and I try to find birds other than starlings and robins.
Last week, we were on our first loop around the pond when I saw a lady fall down. Somewhere in her 60s, if I had to guess, she’d been fishing off of one of the piers when it looked like her legs just gave out from under her. She stumbled back, seeming to go down in slow motion, her fishing pole falling from her hand to the ground next to her.
I was nearby because I’d been watching the geese march around the grassy shore, honking their displeasure at every opportunity, so I was able to get over to her quickly. I reached out a hand, even as she protested that she didn’t need any help. I didn’t believe her since she was on her back like a sad turtle, and I helped her get back to her knees, trying to hoist her all the way up by the elbow.
I couldn’t get much leverage, unfortunately, because A) I am a weak little baby right now and B) I had Willow’s leash in my other hand, and Willow was either trying to help or take advantage of the woman being at eye level in order to get some pets, so keeping her from jumping on the lady required most of my energy. The woman was able to get over to the railing eventually and pull herself back to her feet. She thanked me as I handed her the far-flung fishing rod, turning back to the water immediately. I figured she was embarrassed so Willow and I said a quick goodbye and continued our walk, though we stuck close to the pond for a bit to keep an eye on her. Not too close an eye, though. I know how annoying it is to constantly have eyes on you, silently assessing your every move in case things aren’t OK.
And things are OK, really. Or as OK as they get when you’re in a situation like this. I know the last time I wrote, I was having a Not Great Time and, though things still aren’t all roses and unicorns, we’re all doing our best. For some reason, our change in location has thrown me back to the stage I was in right after getting The Big Bad News, where I just felt unsure about what the point of anything was anymore. Because how does one live with incurable cancer? How does one live like…THIS…forever? How does anyone move from the overwhelming sadness of the situation and find hope and meaning in everyday life again?
For starters, I bought a workbook about grieving, because that’s what all of this is. Unresolved, overwhelming, seemingly never-ending grief. (In reality, what I really need is a new therapist but that is a whole THING, so I’m starting small.) I know that it’s OK to sit with these hard feelings, to give them my time and energy, let them overtake me when they come. It’s good to process them. But I also know that I can’t stay in that space forever. I figured the journal was a good starting point, and I needed to do something because previous methods of pulling myself out of the depression burrow were no longer working.
What is still working, and what turns these bad feelings around most often, is helping other people who are struggling. It’s when I see someone who is having a hard time, whether that’s one of the virtual cancer friends I’ve made or friends and family or a complete stranger who just needs an extra hand, that I’m able to pull my head out of my ass and focus on them instead of wallowing in whatever is wrong with me at the moment. It’s not a perfect solution, it’s not permanent, and it doesn’t get rid of those feelings completely, but it reminds me that I have worth and value outside of just being a good vessel for growing and carrying cancer cells.
I do want to stress that things have not been bad here. Things have been good, it’s just that my brain needs some time to catch up. But we’re making progress on remaking this place our home. Things picked up fairly smoothly with my new doctor, and I was able to continue my regular treatment with nary a hiccup. Part of this could be that I OCD-triple-checked everything with everyone to make sure all was being done the same way, but I’m sure most of it can be attributed to the highly trained medical staff being on their shit.
I also received news that my disability claim has been approved, allowing me to feel like I’m contributing to the household income in some way. I applied for this back in January, when I officially became unemployed and came to terms with the fact that working full-time in a traditional job is likely no longer in the cards for me. The online application took me two hours, and resulted in a mini-breakdown when I had to check a box that said my disability would likely result in my death. Bureaucracy don’t care about feelings! Anyway, checking that box likely got my application pushed through faster, so I guess it was worth it?
We also found a place to live! I really felt for Joe on this one because my requirements for a place were:
Has a yard or easy access to green space so we can get a dog
That was it
I really didn’t care about anything else. We’re renting for now because we didn’t feel ready to commit to buying a house PLUS ALSO the housing market is crazy everywhere, even here in Dayton, and I refuse to pay over asking price for a house in Ohio. So we’ll wait a year and see what the world is doing at that point.
We were so lucky when we got here that we had a place to stay, for as long as we wanted, in order to find a nice place to live. My parents immediately offered to let us stay at their house when we told them we were moving back, and so we accepted and they readied their guest room. (I should make clear that Joe’s parents also offered immediately, but we decided in this case that the parents of the cancer patient got dibs. These things aren’t covered in etiquette books, so hopefully we did that right.) It’s been so nice to have this time with my family (especially since COVID + cancer meant I hadn’t been back to Ohio in over two years). I’ve spent most of this time in my pajamas, reading or watching TV or napping in a recliner with their dog nestled in my lap, so hopefully they don’t think I’m too boring.
We’ll be here for a couple more weeks until we’re able to move into the new place, and then I expect it’ll take some time to get unpacked and start making it feel like home. I hope, at that time, to be able to get into a routine and maybe that will settle my brain a bit, allow me to figure out what I want to do with all this newfound free time (when I’m not napping anyway). Until then, I’ll keep taking Willow on our walks. You never know who might need our help next.
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