tuesday 22.08

In my thought process I have become aware, so very aware of how constant a terminal illness can be. The initial shock and awe having worn its welcome, it now becomes an issue, serious, that I deal with in my everyday, similar to brushing my teeth, showering, dressing, taking out the garbage and paying attention to the dog and sometimes, not always, my immediate surroundings. Once, a little over one hundred and fifty days ago, it was not a thought, not a question, not a possibility. Terminals were at airports and I had no plans to fly anywhere fast.

Today it is a reality that like any reality, exists and is dealt with and the constant reminders of aides and nurses and conversations relating to how I feel are just expected, often anticipated and systematically, mostly, answered so that I can move on to something different all the while the thought of terminal sits in a cold space down deep, unwelcomed, taking up desirable space from other things and other emotions that remain hidden and dormant from site from all others except me. My thinking process is more profound, making my thoughts wiser and my knowledge greater and my respect for the simplicity of living and breathing inspirational and sometimes, more often than not, challenging.