⁇ Cancer light – The day of no painkillers

⁇ 15:33 The bell that no one wants to hear

It was a call on Friday afternoon at 15:33. I was just preparing a kwis beer tasting. In a few minutes my afternoon changed from light to heavy. Since then, I've been trying to write down everything that happens. Not to get pity, but to keep my head and heart together. These blogs are my way of understanding, sharing and showing how I deal with this, sometimes seriously, sometimes with humor, but always really.

“Life does not call in advance to ask if it is convenient.”

⁇ No painkillers today

Today started with good news. For the first time in weeks, I haven't taken any painkillers. Not because I want to be tough, but because it was not necessary for the first time. The pain is still there, but she has become softer, almost polite. As if she has learned to knock on the door instead of just storming in.`
It may sound exaggerated, but that sense of freedom is priceless. I could even think again in plans, something that seemed impossible in recent weeks. If this goes on like this, I'll buy myself a beer tonight. One of them. Just because I can.

“Sometimes the biggest medicine is the realisation that you don’t need one for a while.”

A dream that has to wait

This morning I did something that unexpectedly hurt more than the wound in my throat. I signed up for the NLUUG conference on 20 November. That was a dream that had been in my head for a long time, a room full of like-minded people, a stage, my story about the journey from Microsoft man to FOSS advocate. My name on a program. 
I had already imagined it: the joke at the opening, the anecdote about my first Linux night, the looks of recognition from the audience. But dreams need energy, and I simply don't have it. My voice doesn't last, my concentration even less. So I pressed ‘send’ and felt like I had to park a small piece of myself on the sidewalk of life.
Maybe that chance will come back someday. And if not, the idea that I'm ready for something is worth it.

“Leaving is sometimes the only way to hold on to something.”

⁇ The world through new glasses

The optician was my highlight today, and that says something about my week. Two new glasses: One for the screen and one for the rest of the world. It turned out not to be a luxury but pure necessity. For three years I had been walking around with lenses that had slowly distorted reality.
When I put on my new glasses, the world suddenly seemed to have a higher resolution. The letters on my screen were sharp again, faces familiar again, colors alive again. Being 51 means that some things go less by themselves, but it also has something conciliatory. You learn to look better, literally and figuratively.
And to be honest: With new glasses, even a gray day feels like a small upgrade of existence.

“Those who look more closely will see not only sharper but also milder.”

⁇ The car wash and reality

Then I drove to the laundry. Not for me, but for the car. A symbolic moment, because if I've learned anything from these months, it's that cleaning is a form of control. As the brushes turned their rounds, I looked at the bubbles on the windshield and thought: It would be nice if my throat could be washed off like that.
When I got home I decided to lie on the couch, eyes closed, just nothing. But rest is a rare commodity these days. I have teenagers at home. So lights that burn everywhere, a bathroom that looks like a disaster area. A living room as a failed painting of Dali and a kitchen that we no longer accept since the Middle Ages. And then the dog, Salke, barking like he'd discovered a burglar when it was just someone in the street. My nerves were tight like a guitar in the desert.
I was overreacting, overreacting. His eyes broke my heart. He crawled towards me, low to the ground, with those faithful eyes full of incomprehension. I then hugged him firmly, mumbled my apologies, and decided that he can lie on the couch with me later. On a blanket, that is.

‘Forgiveness fits surprisingly well on a dog rug.’

⁇ The shaky balance

It remains crazy, that sense of recovery and exhaustion at the same time. I feel better during the day, but my energy is like a poorly managed battery. Just full, then suddenly empty. Every effort, no matter how small, seems to count twice.
I want so much. Read, write, go out, build an online store, do courses, clean up, work. But often it ends in sitting, staring, waiting for my body to want again. And yet, in the midst of that slowness, there is also something valuable. I look better, listen better, live more consciously. Maybe that's the lesson I didn't ask for, but apparently I had to learn.

“Anyone who cannot move forward learns to stand still without falling still.”

⁇ For now

Tomorrow we go to the musical Soldier of Orange, with the whole family. My parents, my little brother, all the children, Sylvia, Mandy’s boyfriend, everyone there. It will be busy, cozy, tiring and great at the same time. Maybe I'll fall asleep halfway through. Maybe I'll sing softly (very softly!) with you. Anyway, I'm with you. And that's enough right now.
For now I end the day with a beer, a dog at my feet and the quiet relief that it could do without painkillers.

‘Heaviness may have light. And light sometimes weighs surprisingly much.”