Toll Taking

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This past Monday marked the 122nd running of the Boston Marathon.  The recommendation is to prepare over twenty weeks until the culmination of the race itself. I don’t pretend to want to run a marathon, although my  nighttime dreams for many years, have contained parts when  I was running like a young gazelle through the grasslands and savannas of Africa.  Since I have had both knees replaced within the past fourteen years, I have been discouraged by the medical minds to not consider running for any reason, but rather to walk and  try and not fall down.

I look back on the past several weeks of not writing this blog as having had to take a break from what was an emotional marathon culminating in the end of my FHB’s treatment for prostate cancer.  In the days and weeks following the months of tests and treatments, the reality of the energy we both exerted, each in a different arena, ran out and it was time to rest our brains and our hearts and recalibrate our lives.  As an observer and participant in the process of not only my FHB but others I counsel, I recognize that the aftermath of the process is also something to be reckoned with.  I have been dog tired.

The cadence of the past weeks must be reviewed.  Cancer was in the forefront for several months. It was the melody. It now becomes the backdrop, like the harmony, not forgotten, but woven more into the complexities of day to day.  It has its tone, but it is no longer the prominent theme.  We are getting back to the mundane life we enjoy.  The routines of  errands and work mixed with concerts, and lots of music blend with family time and plans for travel and moments that sustain us.  It certainly is a life lesson in what to pay attention to and what to let go of.  No one invites illness. It just arrives and often overstays its welcome.  We are lucky to have shown it the door.

I have to stop holding my breath and stop asking my FHB how he’s doing.  Allowing us both to get on with life is part of regaining control, for the moment. I have to stop staring at him (without his knowing) and start walking and not fall down.  I’ve missed the time I took off from doing this writing, as it was, and is, a way to focus on my thoughts and share them with the universe (not that I have such a following).  Regaining my sense of humor and impulsive thoughts in the moment and having an opportunity to write, twice a week is the end goal.  Hope to see you here again real soon.

 

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