Thankfulness for Starting Fresh
Consistency has not usually been my strong suit.
I’m not talking about my consistency in being a general slob, clutter whore, or pack rat. Those are a part of my core that I don’t have to work very hard at maintaining.
It’s the goals that I set for myself that go against my somewhat lazy nature that I have a problem with maintaining consistently. Namely, my ability to write a 365 Days of Thankfulness Post each and every day.
I did pretty well early on. But these last few rounds, I have found myself slipping in my promise to force myself to write one everyday. I thought it was getting easier and becoming a habit, but as I missed one day and then the next, I started to feel guilty and it got easier to go another day without writing one.
How long do “they” say it takes to form a habit? 3 weeks? 2 months? Well, apparently in my world it must take a year or something like that.
When I try to meet a goal that I set (especially if I stated it publicly) I find I disappoint myself and then throw in the towel. I try to remind myself of the principle of “one day at a time,” as in, each day you can start over. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work too well for me.
But today, I am going to start fresh. The process of finding something to be thankful for each and every day as a way to document my journey this second time around with colon cancer has gotten tough. But for today, I’m starting over.
I am thankful for that opportunity.
Here is what I’m thankful for today: My friend and confidante, Teresa, coming over and spooning me each time I take a dump.
Yep, you heard me. I’m talking about my pooper.
Listen guys, I am not afraid to say it like it is, obviously. This bout with chemo in the last 11 rounds has gotten progressively difficult, but it is truly easier than the last time. My two main symptoms, besides general fatigue, has been nausea (which the drugs help and I haven’t thrown up yet) and the chemical burning of my starfish each and every time I go number 2. Which is a lot, because that is how my body gets rid of the poison that is pumped into my body through my third nipple for 3 days. After I get unplugged, my body goes into dump mode.
And the chemicals that come out burn the shit out of me… literally and figuratively. No amount of Preparation H, A&D Ointment, suppositories or numbing cream can stop it. I cry from the pain while on the toilet each time. I sweat and nearly vomit from the intensity of it.
And then it takes nearly 10 minutes for the pain to subside. I slowly creep from the loo to the people puddle, crying and hyperventilating, and Teresa meets me there to stroke the hair from my forehead and she holds me, waiting for the pain to pass.
That’s a true friend, right there. My poor, poor bunghole.
So, I’m thankful for my ability to take things one day at a time by starting fresh today with my 365 Days of Thankfulness Post. And the thing that I write about to start over is my pooper? I’d say that’s Classic Emily Style. People need to know the realities of facing cancer and chemo. You can be guaranteed that I will tell you all the crappy stuff with details.
You can feel sorry for me if you want to. Lord knows I feel sorry for myself when I approach the Throne Room. But after the next few days are over, I will feel normal again. I have an extra week before my very last treatment to go and enjoy time with my homies at High Sierra Music Festival. Then… one more round of experiencing The Ring of Fire and it’s done. Thank you, Teresa, for taking my pain and turning it into love. Thank you also for getting me that ticket to High Sierra this year. I could really use a break from all of this ka-ka.
Figuratively and literally.