tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125354934408472049.post4471824424855168949..comments2024-02-20T00:10:20.214-06:00Comments on KatyDid Cancer: Day 259: Much Ado About NothingUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125354934408472049.post-26397165389745064152011-01-21T16:02:52.798-06:002011-01-21T16:02:52.798-06:00What I find interesting are the changes you see in...What I find interesting are the changes you see in yourself, wondering if the cancer caused them or not, while I see those same changes in me and my friends out here who have no first hand experience with cancer treatment. Okay, obviously, we all think about our mortality from time to time, but you do get to play the trump card on that one, so that's not what I mean. But stuff like becoming more unfunny as we get older. And then there's other stuff that you refuse to lay claim to despite the cancer, when I couldn't imagine you associating with yourself at any point that I've known you. Katyisms. Like not trying to find yourself, because who the hell else would you be? (Classic. Katyism.) You know me, I've been trying to find myself since I was about seven years old (I think I'm getting close, I swear...) Or maybe that's just my way of avoiding responsibility for what I've become. Hmm, but that's another blog.<br /><br />As usual, Jennifer hit it on the head. You are very normal, as far as whatever the "current normal" is.Juliehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15004173055166404126noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125354934408472049.post-57956696360342403552011-01-20T23:21:43.166-06:002011-01-20T23:21:43.166-06:00The poem is brilliant. And by brilliant, I mean c...The poem is brilliant. And by brilliant, I mean cutting. The meaning of interesting BTW (at least when referring to the Christmas trees we chopped down and displayed in our family home when I was a kid) is "oddly misshapen". :)<br /><br />You know you're fooling yourself that no one's reading any more. I'm not alone in reading every word. But hey, if that's what you have to tell yourself to share a poem...<br /><br />On the "everything changes after..." theme, I felt like life didn't change nearly as much as people said it would when we became parents. Tony and I both still have a sick sense of humor, and we thought that might be the first to go. I've noticed only one small change in perspective. The snowblower accident I witnessed as a child never really made me FEAR snowblowers with this irrational intensity that I have now. The guy was just stupid. So why does every snowblower suddenly seem like a ticking timebomb to me?<br /><br />Essentially, the new normal (or rather, the current normal) is you aren't letting the idea of growing old be your default position. But maybe in the future, I hope you feel that way again. You're not ready to let down your guard, OK. It's only been a month since the end of treatment, and you're prepared to brace yourself for the worst for at least the next 3-5 years. I just want to contribute that maybe when this doesn't feel so raw, you're going to remember that living and growing old is the norm, and you get to re-join that norm a little more each day, month, year.<br /><br />I like imagining the jolt of Mr. or Ms. Does Everything Halfway when they came upon your cancer blog. Doh! Maybe it cheered them up. That (half of an) existentialist crisis just cleared right up from there.Jennifer Hillhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17916821571244626445noreply@blogger.com