I always have the good intention of getting up and paying a visit to WWM, to thank everyone for their friendship and support, to see their smiling faces, hear their voices, recall a time and place I belonged to. It's not easy fitting in. Sometimes it never happens. But if it does, even for a suspended moment in time, the comfort helps buffer the daily stress of work, even if it's the comfort of strangers. Those same strangers are often the ones that step up in a time of crisis and show true friendship: bearers of thoughtfulness, compassion, understanding.
So today I thought I would go there, and to the Farmer's Market, but I couldn't get up, and I hadn't written in days. Journaling is time-consuming but necessary, as are all the healing things I resolved to take up again—activities I'd let slide over the holidays, when I felt better. Where does 8 hours go? And why can't I seem to budget it properly to squeeze in time to visit my friends?
I don't think it's laziness. Maybe it's a certain hesitancy—that I no longer belong, that I have to earn my way back, that I have to physically be there again, for a while, to have those experiences in common again. And maybe, some folks would rather not have to deal with it, and I understand that completely.
The time between last August and now has flown by for me. Each day rushes towards me, and past me… I can't seem to hang on. I suspect that time would go by even faster, were I at work. There's no slowing it down. The time between my initial coughing and the diagnosis seemed to take forever, and I waited a lifetime before I could get in with my oncologist (after I ditched the last one). Then there was the delay caused by my pericardial effusion. But once chemo began, it was a constant march to the next appointment. All I wanted to do was get to the next day, get through the side effects and fatigue. And here I am, almost 6 months later, wondering where the time went.
I can't leave the country, now, when I have the time to travel. There's taxes and financial things to do, which are deathly boring but necessary. And then there's the healing stuff, which I'm really supposed to be doing 3 times a day. I think I'll be back to work soon, so I need to focus now, on this…whatever "this" is. I think it could be a relief to go to work again, to have that distraction, stimulation, socialization. It's a form of forgetting.
I'm setting my sights on Monday. I'll go see my peeps on Monday, when I can spend the weekend baking…