Cancer becomes you
It's a strange, twilight of the Gods type of day today.
In the morning I went for acupuncture to get ready for tomorrow. I was driving and, for the first time since the surgery, my right arm and boob were not screaming on account of the bounce from the pitted Sydney roads. Well, that's progress!
Driving seems to be my most creative time: so much so, that in the past couple of years I got in the habit of taking a Palm recorder to catch my pearls of wisdom as they come to me. Today, my fairly new Nokia N70 mobile phone officially replaced the trusted Tungsten T2, whose only redeeming feature nowadays is the shockingly difficult solitaire game it still hosts, to which I confess to being addicted.
So, the inaugural recording on the mobile deals with how I feel about this CANCER. Well, it's quite interesting, really. I am not angry with the world, or G-d, and I am not sad either. I am kind of resigned as I face tomorrow and also, as I've said before, shit scared.
To allay the fear, I decided to reward myself with a new pair of pants, which became necessary as I lost about 10 pounds since I moved to my new place four months ago and parked the car in favour of public transport and walking. I walked out of the store in a funky outfit, fairly unsuited to my age, but looking good, and then went to have coffee with Peter, of 'ditch the narrative' fame.
'Cancer becomes you', said Peter appreciatively as I twirled like a teenager in my new outfit, and we settled down for a cuppa coffee in Rushcutters Bay park, one of the many scenic parks along Sydney's foreshore. 'What a great title,' I cried. I was actually thinking of a book, but I guess this blog entry will have to do for now.
In the late afternoon I met with another member of the Muslim community who is interested in engaging with the Jewish and wider Australian communities.
And now, after supper, I am about to finish the wash (I cleaned the house yesterday), so tomorrow I can go to the hospital with a clear conscience and face whatever comes.
I am reminded of my favourite Georges Brassens song, Le Testament, in which he affirms that when it is time to go, he'll take the longest route.... take a new love, taste the finer things in life. I can understand his feelings perfectly (even though there's no sign of a new love, but that's another issue beyond the scope of this blog).
In the morning I went for acupuncture to get ready for tomorrow. I was driving and, for the first time since the surgery, my right arm and boob were not screaming on account of the bounce from the pitted Sydney roads. Well, that's progress!
Driving seems to be my most creative time: so much so, that in the past couple of years I got in the habit of taking a Palm recorder to catch my pearls of wisdom as they come to me. Today, my fairly new Nokia N70 mobile phone officially replaced the trusted Tungsten T2, whose only redeeming feature nowadays is the shockingly difficult solitaire game it still hosts, to which I confess to being addicted.
So, the inaugural recording on the mobile deals with how I feel about this CANCER. Well, it's quite interesting, really. I am not angry with the world, or G-d, and I am not sad either. I am kind of resigned as I face tomorrow and also, as I've said before, shit scared.
To allay the fear, I decided to reward myself with a new pair of pants, which became necessary as I lost about 10 pounds since I moved to my new place four months ago and parked the car in favour of public transport and walking. I walked out of the store in a funky outfit, fairly unsuited to my age, but looking good, and then went to have coffee with Peter, of 'ditch the narrative' fame.
'Cancer becomes you', said Peter appreciatively as I twirled like a teenager in my new outfit, and we settled down for a cuppa coffee in Rushcutters Bay park, one of the many scenic parks along Sydney's foreshore. 'What a great title,' I cried. I was actually thinking of a book, but I guess this blog entry will have to do for now.In the late afternoon I met with another member of the Muslim community who is interested in engaging with the Jewish and wider Australian communities.
And now, after supper, I am about to finish the wash (I cleaned the house yesterday), so tomorrow I can go to the hospital with a clear conscience and face whatever comes.
I am reminded of my favourite Georges Brassens song, Le Testament, in which he affirms that when it is time to go, he'll take the longest route.... take a new love, taste the finer things in life. I can understand his feelings perfectly (even though there's no sign of a new love, but that's another issue beyond the scope of this blog).
posted by Unknown at 3:09 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home