Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Pulverizing boulders
These passages in life. They are usually impossible to understand while you are still in them. After some time and distance, you can look back at certain periods, months, weeks or whatever and see patterns. Things become obvious. Things become mentally feasible.
(My girlfriend is going out tonight and it annoys me that I can't be with her. I'm not jealous, I'm sad.)
It's impossible to determine the length of this passage. It is just something that ends whenever it ends. I can't predict when. I can't influence its outcome. I can only try to live with it. I do see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I can't say how far or close I am from it.
(This party she is going to is said to be the perfect place to find someone to hook up with, to get laid and where the liberal youth of Austria arrange their parties.)
What I want is some degree of optimistic energy. What I'm looking for is a way back to harmony. What I see is a person who is listening to echoes from the past.
(She will be drunk tonight, and she will have to walk on her own from the party, all the way back to the dorm. I wish I could make her company and hold her hand.)
I've been trying to get my body back in motion after one month of complete apathy and constant resting. I took a walk two days ago, I took a walk yesterday, I took a walk today. My feet are already fucked up with blisters. It's moving in the right direction at least. I can't describe how much I miss the gym.
(I miss her.)
I have been told that it is not always a bad thing to keep old thoughts in your head. The more you think about something, the easier it will eventually be to process it. I am trying to pulverize the heavy boulders that are blocking my way at the moment. They need to disappear so that I can move on with my life. I am looking at the past and I am looking to the future. I want to have both in this moment, and I will.
(I love her.)
(My girlfriend is going out tonight and it annoys me that I can't be with her. I'm not jealous, I'm sad.)
It's impossible to determine the length of this passage. It is just something that ends whenever it ends. I can't predict when. I can't influence its outcome. I can only try to live with it. I do see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I can't say how far or close I am from it.
(This party she is going to is said to be the perfect place to find someone to hook up with, to get laid and where the liberal youth of Austria arrange their parties.)
What I want is some degree of optimistic energy. What I'm looking for is a way back to harmony. What I see is a person who is listening to echoes from the past.
(She will be drunk tonight, and she will have to walk on her own from the party, all the way back to the dorm. I wish I could make her company and hold her hand.)
I've been trying to get my body back in motion after one month of complete apathy and constant resting. I took a walk two days ago, I took a walk yesterday, I took a walk today. My feet are already fucked up with blisters. It's moving in the right direction at least. I can't describe how much I miss the gym.
(I miss her.)
I have been told that it is not always a bad thing to keep old thoughts in your head. The more you think about something, the easier it will eventually be to process it. I am trying to pulverize the heavy boulders that are blocking my way at the moment. They need to disappear so that I can move on with my life. I am looking at the past and I am looking to the future. I want to have both in this moment, and I will.
(I love her.)
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
My fight against my disease
I am tired of sickbeds, IVs and all the other things you're exposed to when you're seriously sick. A while ago I decided to fight my disease instead of counting blindly on my fate and on nature. The fight would not eliminate any risks of future relapses, but it would however decrease the possibilities.
I have undergone chemotherapy (and I am still not finished with it). The side effects are many and not worth mentioning, but they all contribute to make it one of the worst experiences of my life, if not the very worst. Everybody has been sick and everybody has or will have to go through hospital stays during a lifetime, but I have never experienced something that mentally has picked me apart, piece by piece, the way this treatment has. It's not only about the pain, nauseousness and apathy that usually kicks in, it's the knowledge that they are injecting poison into your body. The hair grows back, the blood levels will be restored, the pain will go away, but the fear of having to go through this again will never disappear.
I am optimistic about the future, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I am eagerly anticipating it. This passage in life has changed me forever. I miss things I never thought about before. I want things that I did not bother about before. Most importantly, I want my life back.
I have a few weeks left of this before I can consider it to be over. At least for this time. From now on I will have to accept that life will be looking differently. I will have to get used to regular CAT scan sessions, monthly blood sample analysis and frequent doctor appointments.
It's when something like this happens that you realize what life really is about. I have learned and I am still learning. It's when something like this happens that you learn to let things (in many cases people and different feelings) go, things you never really needed. These things are so insignificant after all of this.
The future will be bright. That is my ambition. I have done all I can to set that base. Whatever happens from now on is out of my hands, but still I have the feeling that the future will be bright.
Thank you for reading.
I have undergone chemotherapy (and I am still not finished with it). The side effects are many and not worth mentioning, but they all contribute to make it one of the worst experiences of my life, if not the very worst. Everybody has been sick and everybody has or will have to go through hospital stays during a lifetime, but I have never experienced something that mentally has picked me apart, piece by piece, the way this treatment has. It's not only about the pain, nauseousness and apathy that usually kicks in, it's the knowledge that they are injecting poison into your body. The hair grows back, the blood levels will be restored, the pain will go away, but the fear of having to go through this again will never disappear.
I am optimistic about the future, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I am eagerly anticipating it. This passage in life has changed me forever. I miss things I never thought about before. I want things that I did not bother about before. Most importantly, I want my life back.
I have a few weeks left of this before I can consider it to be over. At least for this time. From now on I will have to accept that life will be looking differently. I will have to get used to regular CAT scan sessions, monthly blood sample analysis and frequent doctor appointments.
It's when something like this happens that you realize what life really is about. I have learned and I am still learning. It's when something like this happens that you learn to let things (in many cases people and different feelings) go, things you never really needed. These things are so insignificant after all of this.
The future will be bright. That is my ambition. I have done all I can to set that base. Whatever happens from now on is out of my hands, but still I have the feeling that the future will be bright.
Thank you for reading.
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