Stopped at the Intersection (Again)
A Sunday Morning Ramble from the Mud Room
Yesterday was another pretty poopy day in the life of chemo. I got through it — overdid it a bit, but I pretty much made my mind up early that I would, and I followed through on that threat. That’s a win in my book.
The worst part continues to be the mouth and tongue issues. I can manage the walking difficulties and aching feet by laying down and taking it easy, but the taste, the burning tongue, and the total lack of enjoyment with anything I eat or drink — that drives me crazy. I still eat and drink, because you have to, but I’ve had all the Play-Doh I care to have. I figure I’ve got about five more weeks of this Play-Doh diet, and then maybe we can move on. I assume everyone ate a little Play-Doh as a kid and knows what I mean. I’ve been describing it this way for months, and not a single soul has asked, “What do you mean like Play-Doh?” That makes me laugh.
Somewhere between Saturday and Sunday, I started to feel the urge to pull everything I’ve been working on together. I’ve made real progress in some areas and bombed completely in others. What I still struggle with is that I can picture the end result so clearly, but I just can’t seem to understand the steps to get there. I’m all over the place — and getting advice is tough because I’m so scattered. Comes down to one thing: my lack of organization. I’m working on it, but damn… it’s been almost four months since this “vision” took hold of me, and patience is wearing thin.
Of course, chemo plays a big part in that — maybe the whole part. I started to accept that last week and shifted my approach: do what I can until chemo ends, and focus on prepping for what comes after. If all goes according to plan, I should be at that point around May 5th — and in the big picture, that’s not far off.
This morning, I spent some time on the Front Porch, just letting my mind wander. I ended up stuck at this mental intersection on 33 Highway — not the first time I’ve been stopped there. It's a simple intersection, but tricky for a simple man like me. I know what’s ahead: a short, straight road that leads directly to the vision. But it’s surrounded by all these other winding paths that u-turn right back to where I am now.
So the question is: do I take the obvious route — the one I’ve always taken — or do I try something new? That “simple path” has always been my way, but it’s also probably the reason things have gone off track before. I know people question whether I’m real and sincere now — hell, I question it myself. My history’s rough, and I’ve got no fast fix for that. I want a fast fix, but it doesn’t exist. Maybe someday, I’ll feel like I’ve done everything I can to make it right.
Now here’s the funny part — something I’ve only shared with my therapist. (She’s been helping me for free, and I can't begin to express how much that’s meant.) Our relationship is unlike any I’ve had — a bond I didn’t know could exist. I hope everyone gets to experience something like it.
Anyway, when all this began, I truly believed I’d already be past the fist bumps and high fives by now. I thought I’d be wrapping this thing up. I went straight into “fix it fast” mode and floored the gas. Seven months later, I’m in the mud room, trying to type as fast as my brain’s spinning — spoiler alert: that ain’t happening.
My original plan was flawed. I realized that when I admitted to my therapist recently that I didn’t expect to still be here. For two weeks now, I’ve been sitting at this new intersection, trying to figure it out. And I think I have: the right path isn’t the easy, straight one. It’s all the ones that loop me right back here. Each path has something I need to see, feel, or learn — even if I don’t know what yet.
It looks like I’m going to be here longer than I thought. And it looks like I need to be. So I’m going to prepare for it, fight for it, and keep spinning the wheel. I’ll follow whichever numbered path it lands on, one at a time. No rushing. No skipping ahead.
And if you made it this far into my Sunday ramble, thank you. That means the world to me.
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