New speed

It took me 10 minutes, or less to clean a very dirty, crusted grill. Actually, it's a George Foreman Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine!  It's the best thing I have in the kitchen, besides the oven/microwave combination I got almost three years ago, when the old microwave gave up the ghost just before I moved here from West Ryde. 

The reason this is such a momentous event is that I have been procrastinating with this particular cleaning for the past two days, when I grilled the best Lebanese sausages I got from the Halal butcher in Merrylands. I do move about greater Sydney a lot, so I try to find butchers who have good selections besides every conceivable variety of pork that's in my local shops. No matter how tempting, I just don't eat pork. It's been 30 years now (But, that's another story, as the saying goes).

In any case, the important thing to note here is that my perception of time has changed during the cancer treatment and I think I am finally getting back to something approximating the fast pace at which I used to be able to do things. At least, faster than things have been done in the past couple of years. 

I can't really explain it, but sometimes it seemed that time was an elastic band, stretched forever to get one task done. And I wondered how I could ever have packed as much into one day as my hazy memory imagined I used to do. 

Today I realised that I was going gangbusters, like speedy Gonzales, and it was amazing how much I could pack into one day without really getting tired. 

My take on this is that my perception of time has pretty well bounced back to normal and also, my energy level has returned as well. 

I find I get quite annoyed when, trying to figure out how much further I can recover, well-meaning people reassure me that they have the same problem and it's all to do with age! Balderdash!  I am recovering from the devastating effects of chemotherapy! Surely one recovers first, before succumbing to old age oblivion!  (OK don't answer that, I don't really want to know!)

Act II

It's my mother's birthday today.  She would be 97. I am sure she is happy not to have reached this grand old age. Mom was always afraid of being dependent and a burden. Well, she wasn't. She died of a massive stroke at 74. Every year since then, I wish she was here. This year is no different. Mom had a special way of looking at the world - she looked for beauty and goodness everywhere. But shit happened at regular intervals and, when it got too much, Mom just kept brushing it under the carpet. She presented a happy, funny face to the world, while the memories of unresolved hurts and pain festered inside into bitter, never to be resolved, resentment. 

I think I was pretty well along the same path until this Big C hit, which, truthfully, I expected to 'overcome' as I had done every other problem in my life. But, as I travel along the road to recovery, I realise that this is not going to happen.  I am never going to be the same and this bloody recovery may take the rest of my life. 

The other day I started working on my father-son screenplay and took out some old notes. They were from 2005-6. Suddenly, I had this weird thought: "How come it's been so long? Why haven't I finished this yet? What have I been doing in the past three years?" And then, the question: "Where have I been all this time?"

It was scary. I picked up the phone and called Angela - my wonderful cancer counselor. I am determined not to end up like Mom and leave this world with unresolved pain. 

Last year was a year of healing: I made peace with my brother and the years I was a stateless person, and all the other things that happened. Nowadays, I feel at peace. I am never nervous and I don't lose my temper as I did before. I am no longer the "Hungarian Firecracker" of old. 

Healthwise, my energy returned, my memory improved and, to all intents and purposes, I am healthy as a horse. Yet...

Angela says the doubts and worries, the feeling of having been away, are part of the normal healing process and recovery from cancer.  However, on a personal basis, she says some of my worries arise from the fact that my life is returning to normal and I am so used to and am so good at dealing with trauma and drama that I get very uncomfortable when life runs at a normal pace.

Wowee! I never thought about that! So, now I have to worry about not worrying about living a normal life?  That's a bit too deep, even for me. I think I'll just take Angela's advice and return to writing this blog and see how things develop. 

Maybe Mom right. Look for the silver lining and let the rest take care of itself..........Happy Birthday Mom!