There comes a time when words escape me. I should know the signs by now. I can’t express myself, I don’t want to talk about cancer, commercials touting “I’m ready to start my chemotherapy” make me cry, I find my jaw clenched the majority of the time, I’m a bit agitated (and not by too much caffeine), I can’t make eye contact with women with extremely short hair (even if it is a chosen style), and then I go to the lab for blood tests. Even though I had a reprieve for the last six months, I should know by now that oncology follow-ups get to me no matter how much I try to believe I am stronger than that. They never get easier. Waiting is never palatable.I get my results next week. Fingers and toes crossed (even if it makes me drive funny and walk with a strange double limp).
Labels: cancer, moving on after cancer
