The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance
Yesterday's early a.m. MRI was stressful but successful: I only panicked a little (when the contrast injected in my vein made my heart pound so hard it was louder than the machine) but not so much that they had to stop the process. Really, if they hadn't warned me that I should press the panic button if I got chest pain after the contrast, and then told me, okay, now here comes the contrast, I would likely have been totally fine.
I expected to be exhausted after that, but managed to work most of the day (including biking to work for the first time this spring!), and then have a nice shabbat dinner with Sam & Don and watch a weird movie (Birdman: The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance).
Though we didn't like the ending of Birdman, I realized afterward that it was the first time since the diagnosis that I actually forgot I have cancer. It was, of course, not pleasant to remember that fact a few minutes after the movie ended. I realized, though, that part of the reason I've been having trouble sleeping is probably because I was afraid of that sensation -- that waking up blissfully ignorant, and then remembering the bad news again, as if it's a fresh injury. That happened several times after my mother died suddenly in 2006.
Realizing this, I told myself, well, it's already happened -- you've forgotten, then remembered, and you are okay. You don't have to try to avoid it happening again. I then slept well all night for the first time since the diagnosis. (Aided also by Tylenol and Benadryl!)
Thanks so much to all of you for your messages. I don't have time to answer each one individually, but please know that I feel each and every one as a boost of energy, love, meaning, and connection.
Comments (14)
You are wise beyond measure. Thank you for starting our day with a reminder of all of the things we have survived. BIG love to you!!!!!
Wow, Rebecca, your insight into this is amazing! Understanding fear and pain may be the antidote to letting them rule. Remember that the disease doesn't define you; as who you are is well beyond, and much deeper. Love you, thinking of you.
Thank you for sharing your journey with us...of course it's a shared one that we all are blessed to be on together. Sending smiling energy and light your way.
Wonderful and thoughtful as ever. With much love and hope. The cancer memory gets less troublesome with time.
Hugs and kisses to you. Let me know if you have time for a shabbat walk.
Thank you for your insights that are helpful to all of us along the way. Sending warm and healing thoughts to you, Becca. Gail
Becca, your honesty and courage inspire me....and, I am thinking of you each day and sending you healing energy and love. - Heather
Amazing insights Becca. Thanks for sharing your learning -sending light and love to you.
I'm so glad that you got some good sleep! It really helps to make it easier to cope in the morning....at least, that is the way it is for me. Audrey is literally ringing my bells and recalling me to the moment and that it is about her right now. Hugs and love, Celeste
Blessings to you and your family on this journey. Holding the light of love for all of you.
I want there to be a "like" button for all the comments, so I'll just say "ditto." Thanks for sharing your insights with all of us. You've always been amazing and a diagnosis doesn't change that one bit. And while I know this is a very personal journey for you, at a different level it is one that we all share. Thanks for... well thanks for continuing to be your awesome self.
BTW, Corkey, our son Jamie and I agree with you, Don and Sam about the Birdman ending. Glad you got sleep......nature's best medicine. Do you ever try melatonin?
Please keep writing -- your reflections are a great help to me, and, I imagine, for all of us.
Having walked this path with another, Rebecca, so much of what you have been describing sounds so familiar. It is hard to keep one's balance in a tilted house that is moving up and down. But you are handling this with all the strength and centeredness I would have predicted.