An Overabundance of Perspective

Just when I think I have all the life perspective I can possibly handle, the universe finds a way to shove some more down my throat.

I have spent the last month dealing with the unraveling of one of the few aspects of my life that has remained more or less stable through this mess: my physical health. I went to the doctor in early February to get an explanation for some highly unpleasant symptoms I was experiencing, and came away with the number of a specialist and the name of the very cancer that killed my grandfather a few years ago echoing in my ears.

The wait between that initial doctor’s appointment and my appointment with the specialist was awful. The wait between the specialist’s appointment and the procedure he wanted to do to rule out cancer was even worse. I had to make a very unpleasant call to beg for a halt to some of the other things going on in my life (things that necessitated The Reinvention Project in the first place, and things I just want to END, not drag out) so I wouldn’t lose my medical insurance. I had flashbacks to when my grandfather died. I had nightmares about having cancer, and all the things that could go wrong. I ran scenarios in my mind about whether I’d even be able to handle such a blow after all the blows I’ve already taken. If there was anything that would trump every other disaster in my life that I’ve been clawing my way through, it would be a cancer diagnosis.

This last Tuesday I found myself being checked in to the hospital, with a friend beside me who I will love forever for stepping in to fill the void left by the person who decided seven months ago that standing by my side was no longer a job description they wanted. This friend stayed with me until the second I was wheeled away for my procedure, suffering through my inevitable freak-out at being in the hospital and having an IV put into my arm (even typing the words makes my heart rate go up—I do not do well with hospitals, and have a phobia of needles that makes all things medical akin to psychological torture for me). She was also the first face I saw and the first voice I heard when I came out of anesthesia afterwards, and though I’ve forgotten the bulk of what happened between when they first gave me the anesthesia and when I was wheeled out of the hospital to my friend’s car due to the medication’s effects on my short-term memory, I will never, as long as I live, forget that her presence kept me calm and feeling not alone.

Feeling “not alone” while you’re waiting to hear if you have cancer is a very, very important thing.

And, as it turns out, I do NOT have cancer. I had something else, which has since healed, and I am as healthy as I ever was. But in that short amount of time when the possibility loomed, I gained yet more perspective on this life I’m trying to rebuild from the ground up. Hence today’s lesson…

Lesson of the Day: Living may sometimes suck, but the alternative is unacceptable.

When 1 Really IS the Loneliest Number

I have never minded being alone.

I don’t mean that I’m anti-social or that I prefer to be alone, because have plenty of friends and I rarely turn down the opportunity to hang out with other people. I simply mean that when a situation plays out so that I’m by myself, I’m not bothered by it. This has come in handy in recent months, as I am now on my own the majority of the time. Having only myself for consistent company has not kept me from going out to eat, or watching movies, or heading out on multi-day road trips—all things I have done quite successfully, alone, over the last five months.

In fact, being alone has its advantages—advantages I have pointed out to myself on more than one occasion as a temporary remedy for my inevitable loneliness. There’s no arguing over what to eat, or when. There are no fights about what movie to see. Everything in the house is mine, set up the way I want it and situated to make my life more comfortable. If I want to go out, I go out. No waiting for someone else to get ready, and no discussions about it. If I want to stay in, I stay in. My free time is my own. No one hassles me about how they think I should be spending it. I don’t have to take anyone else into consideration when I make decisions, something that has greatly simplified my world. Yes, there are indeed advantages to being the number one person in my life.

That being said, there are times when being alone flat-out sucks. This suckiness is, perhaps, magnified by the fact that I didn’t choose to be alone, but rather had all this aloneness thrust upon me against my will. (This is also why I spend so much time coming up with reasons why being alone doesn’t suck in the first place.) Whatever the case, there was a lot of non-happy alone time this weekend, because I was sick. Not just “oh, I’m not feeling all that hot” sick, but “I went to the doctor and came back with multiple prescription medications” sick. I was flat on my back for three days. And I was alone. And it sucked royally.

There was no one to get me a glass of water. No one to pick up my prescriptions from the pharmacy for me. No one to make me soup. No one to grab an extra blanket for me when my fever gave me chills. The house didn’t get cleaned. Errands didn’t get run. Studying didn’t get done. On the other hand, in spite of how crappy I felt, the animals needed to be looked after, meals needed tending, mail needed to be brought in (but only because I was waiting for something important; otherwise that wouldn’t have gotten done, either). It was awful, misery on top of misery and all I could think about was how much I really, really didn’t want to be alone. If I didn’t have the cats (who, bless their little feline hearts, could tell I wasn’t feeling well and curled up with me for all three days to keep me company), I might have spun into a real funk over the whole thing.

As it stands, I’m exhausted today, partly from being sick and unable to lie down (I have a lot of responsibilities stacked up on Mondays) but partly from the emotional toll this weekend took on me. This is one problem for which there is no solution. I am alone, and sometimes it is going to suck, and there’s nothing to be done about it. I just have to get used to it as one of the more unpleasant aspects of my new life. I just wish this particular life lesson had waited until I was something other than miserable and drugged to the gills. Ugh.

Lesson of the Day: Sometimes, it’s just gonna suck.