Hi y'all,
We're still here! Trying to right the house after the holiday jamboree. Finally got to the bottom of the laundry hamper this weekend. Laundry actually turns out to be a rather soothing thing these days. Besides being nice and toasty when I fold it, it gives me a feeling of accomplishment and without any fuss transports me from the past into the future.
We had our dining room painted a cheery yellow to match the living room while we were at the beach, which has necessitated reframing the 7 paintings hanging there from an art show I did in Salem some time back. And now that we have the "refresh" bug, Jeff and I are scouting upholstery material for the reading couch (last recovered when the kids were small) and for the bench cushion in the entry way. Making such long term investments seems somehow right at the moment.
On the other hand, in the chemo room at the cancer center where I was getting a dressing change this afternoon, the following conversation took place....
Me: I'm trying to decide whether or not to start the adult novel I've taken lots of notes on. I don't know if I'll live long enough to finish it.
Fellow cancer patient: With chemo brain you forget a lot, so it won't matter if you don't finish reading it.
Me: Actually I meant to write it.
My nurse: I certainly wouldn't decide on the basis of cancer. You're not going to die anytime soon, and besides, you could walk out the door and get run over in the parking lot, like Dr. Rushing (my oncologist) who found himself spread eagle on a lady's hood in the hospital parking lot last week in an attempt to avoid being run down.
Fellow cancer patient: I think you definitely should get started writing.
My nurse: Besides, if you die before you finish it, you'll be dead anyway and it won't matter.
............
:~) I love my cancer nurse. She used to be in the Army. She always sets me straight.
Hugs to all,
Diane
Blooms and Butterflies Cake
4 weeks ago
2 comments:
I dare you to write that adult novel, Diane. And if you take me up on it, I'll start mine... No! No! Say No!
I believe I'd go ahead and start writing. For one thing, you need something to focus your anger on, and as you know, when they get beyond about 200 pages, they are hard to love. Plus, dying ain't much of a hobby, nor a conversation piece, and as an art, well, most of us will be practicing it, although for such a widely experienced activity, you don't see a whole lot of expertise.
As for "forgetting", you'll be doing plenty of that anyway. Age, you know. My personal experience has been that people who discover they share a "CONDITION" with you are often convinced that you will experience every aspect just as they have. 'Tain't always the case. So don't be counting on forgetfulness to get you out of trouble.
Like the idea of stepping in front of a car, though. That's how you win: die from something else. You show the SOBs. Preferably much later, of course. Work on it.
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