Cancer Pt. 3

Life in Limbo

My debut during recovery from my first major surgery was to the Toronto Symphony. My Dad, Step-Mom, friend and I had made the date months before. I was lucky to have enough strength to be able to make it out for this. I forgot what symphony we choose to see, it wasn’t until I got to Roy Thompson Hall and the usher handed me the program that I learned we were about to witness Mozart’s Requiem. This piece was commission by an anonymous patron to commemorate the death of his wife. Then in sweet irony while writing this commissioned piece to celebrate a life, it was left unfinished, as Mozart died while writing it. And this was my welcoming back into society after facing a serious illness I was greeted with death.

Life in limbo, as I am calling it is a lot more stressful than you might think. Some might hear limbo as this wonderful state where you can just float and coast in life with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Though that might sound like bliss, it doesn’t work so well when during that time you have to wait to hear when your next surgery will be, when the life you were just getting used to again will be taken away from you. Or that is the shell of the life you once lived. Life isn’t just like it was before my surgery. I have been back in my apartment for a month now but I still feel restricted. My diet is very unusual which makes eating out a bit of a challenge, so I tend to stay in. I have this wound that I don’t like to talk about but do have to care for and because of it I am apprehensive to do much outside of my apartment. And if I am being totally honest, mentally I’m just not as with it as I used to be. I’m sure this will pass, but I really just don’t care about most things as much as I used to.

The biggest take away from this experience is patience. I have to be patient to hear back from my doctor, for my hair to grow back, waiting for the day when I can eat cucumbers again, and patient while I wait and hope for certain people to reach out, but as time moves further along I doubt they will. It isn’t that I’m not completely grateful for the support I do have, there are just a few missing links. It’s unfortunate when people are right about the shitty things. Like when people told me “you’ll find out who your true friends are” but at least I’m not lacking in numbers when it comes to true friends.

The biggest challenge I seem to face is waking up each day and brace myself for how I’m going to handle the day. Will I be completely numb to everything, will I feel acceptance for what the rest of my life filled with CT scans and a giant scar will look like, will I go on like nothing happened or while doing the dishes will I just break down and find myself in tears on the kitchen floor? Every day is an adventure. What makes it even more exciting is explaining why I’m not working right now and trying so hard to love the people who act like I’m just getting over a cold and I should be back to normal by now. As if I’m over dramatizing how fucked up I feel sometimes.

Pt. 1 and Pt. 2 that I have already written had humor and a bit of lightheartedness and I wish I could put some of that into this piece as well. Unfortunately the more I live with all that has happened the more real it feels. It’s no longer this crazy rollercoaster I’m on, it’s my new reality and it’s not going away. This rollercoaster isn’t stopping and I can’t yell at anyone to hit the breaks. It just keeps going.

So there is nothing else I can do except continue to annoying people on text and messenger, seeking company. Forcing people to interrupt their busy lives to entertain me for a bit. At least until I can get my life back together and I can be one of the busy people again who gives five minutes here and there to keep someone else company who might need it like I did when I was floating in limbo.