Un-Dying

As I mentioned before, I kept a blog after I’d been diagnosed with Cancer.  This is an entry from that blog on what it was like to try to move on from a cancer diagnosis.

Now that cancer seems to be off the table and I seem to be healthier than I have been in a long time, it’s time to go back to work, try to rebuild my finances and put my life back together.  I’m not sure I’ve realized the full measure of dilapidation that my life and body have endured.  I keep noticing things that are out of place and wondering how long it has been that way.

The week after Thanksgiving I began substitute teaching again.  Aside from the week I helped take care of an elderly friend, this is the first full-time work I’ve had in more than 2 years.  It was a challenging situation, to begin with.  There was no curriculum.  I was given five periods of frustrated middle-schoolers to entertain, occupy, and subdue by any means that doesn’t involve a whip and a chair. 

I think I did the best I could under the circumstances, at least as far as keeping them productive.  By the end of the two and a half week job, however, I was at the end of my atrophied patience.  I shouted a couple of times and was just plain rude to one particular student whose snarky eyebrows just rub me the wrong way.  (I did apologize to her later). 

In the end, I was proud of myself for the several meaningful moments I’d had over the experience.  I was satisfied with the thought that soon I’ll no longer need any assistance beyond my own ability to earn a living.  Things should be getting better from here.

I keep thinking, “Yay, I’m not dying!  I’m working again.  Everything else should be cake.”  But it’s really not.  Life is a little scarier somehow, and sometimes only sweats and Netflix make it feel safe.

I feel overwhelmed by all the things I let fall on the floor when I was sick.  My property is in shambles.  The fence needs fixing, the yards need to be cleaned up.  I have trash that needs to be hauled off.  I’m juggling finances, trying to figure out what I’m going to do about my car, trying to figure some way to get Chunk’s mange taken care of  (this poor baby always has something wrong with him), and so on and so on.

I think I’m afraid because I’m not sick anymore and I am working, now, and I’m still struggling to recover physically, emotionally, and financially.  While prospects are improving, it still seems like true relief is so very far away.  Like treading water in a storm… when the storm clears, it’s easier, but you still have to swim for your life.