Quoting Pink Floyd seems apropos with reference to my cancer.
Some days the whole thing seems quite surreal. "All in all, it's just another brick in the wall."
And others are simply downright frustrating. "Is there anybody out there?"
The surreal part was when my cancer was diagnosed as having spread to my kidneys. I had taken a huge leap from merely taking drugs to control the cancer - and the pain - to the need to inundate myself with chemo treatments and steroids to kill cancerous (and healthy) cells on the road towards high dose chemo and a stem cell transplant.
The frustrating part is trying to get hold of someone at the General Hospital's Bone Marrow Transplant Unit to confirm with me my next steps; just when round two of my chemo is scheduled. I'm told someone is reviewing my chart and will get in touch with me, but it would be nice to have a little information in a timely fashion - i.e. in advance.
So for now I'm trying my best to avoid thinking about either the surreal or the frustrating with some displacement activity. (But you know, every once and awhile these thoughts nevertheless poke through and start to piss me off.) For example, I've got my guitar to learn. I've got books to read. I've got CDs to find, buy and listen to.
Guitar: chords E, A, D, C
Book: From Beruit to Jerusalem - Thomas L. Friedman
Music: Garth Brooks - Garth Brooks(!)
Garth Brooks - Ropin' The Wind
Garth Brooks - The Chase
Garth Brooks - Sevens
(There's a disturbing pattern here. And going from Pink Floyd to Garth Brooks in a matter of minutes...hmmm, talk about surreal!)