I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Monday, June 07, 2010


Sober

In those moments following my test and good results when I vacation away from fear, occasionally I contemplate the options of a “what if”. The options are complicated and risky and, while I am fear sober, I look at them objectively. I evaluate them and sometimes might even discuss them with someone. In my objectivity it appears feasible that regardless of what is uncertain I should be able to take that risk. After all, I am a believer that if it is not my day, I will be okay. I will come out of it victorious.

That is, in the sobriety of my days I can assess options.

When I am drunk in fear, my thought process is impaired by the building anxiety. I don’t think objectively, I simply feel and what I feel is irrational. Thank God, that only happens a few days every 6 months or somebody would shoot me. They might still want to the rest of the year but that is another post.

Funny how we handle things. I, unlike my mother who refers to “it” as if it were an illicit activity in which I were engaged, don’t hide my medical issues. She conceals my medical history from friends and never refers to “it” by name, “you know, when you had that...”. I don’t necessarily enjoy pronouncing the name and I find ways around it but I don’t hide it. It is whether I like it or not (and of course no one in their right mind would) a part of my life. Nevertheless, sometimes talking about it, and lately writing about it, makes it feel a little more…normal, doable. Not so illicit and criminal.

The truth is that if it were necessary to make a decision, it has been discussed that another treatment would not be the best option, not a long lasting one. The one that could provide the best results is, of course, the one with the highest risk.

So when I am “less in fear” (but never fearless), I consider when the best time to face that challenge would be. If inevitably one day I’d have to face that ghost again, then it would be better sooner and not later when my body is strong and somewhat young. When my heart, liver, lungs are working properly. When I could fight infection better. Basically when my chances of making it are higher. And then, if it didn’t work, I would still have gotten what I asked for in 2001; enough years to get my kids through school, enough time to build a foundation of good morals and ethics in them to carry on life without me.

But, when I am fear struck - drunk in fear- as I am now none of the above makes sense, none of it is satisfying and I want more, still want more. I still want more out of my own life, I still want more with my kids, I want more. And if “it” robbed me of the more I want, it would suck.

It would suck. It really would suck.

I have prayer, I have faith. I have hope that I will be bypassed again. And I have fear.

Always fear. Always faith.