To be clear, the title of this post is not referring to my MRI scan. That’s not until tomorrow, and we’re not expecting to find any bright spots. (That’s a cancer joke, in case you missed it. A Cancerful Double Entendre, if you will. Kind of like this…)
This post is about a different kind of bright spot. And actually, I wrote this a couple of days ago, in my journal, with a pen (it was green). I’m only now getting around to typing it up. Read on and you will understand why…
[Friday, March 25th, 2016. 10:33 AM]
I took a pain pill, but my head still hurts.
I took a wake-up pill, and had some coffee, but I’m still sleepy.
I was gonna say “At least my tummy doesn’t hurt,” but now my tummy even hurts.
What the fuck.
I had an OK day yesterday– felt pretty good when I went for a walk– but I feel much worse today.
I’m fucking tired of this.
And I don’t want to sleep anymore. I got a solid 8+ hours last night. But I don’t know what else I can do right now. I wanted to make an appointment with an acupuncturist today, which I think is going to help me feel better, but I’m way too wiped out to even figure that out right now.
At least it feels good to complain. I just wish I had somebody to complain to right now, other than myself.
I think I’m gonna stand up and get away from this computer screen. Move around a little bit. See where that leads me. Might just lead me to lying down again…
[A FEW MINUTES LATER…]
It actually lead me outside, which is really nice.
I still feel like shit, but this is an improvement. It’s nice out here.
I don’t feel better, but this is better.
It’s funny, I was just sitting here with my eyes closed, and I found myself trying to think of things to be happy about. There are quite a few, despite everything.
I have a pathological desire to find bright spots. I’m slightly embarrassed by this, because I feel like other people might see it as forced. Or even cheesy. And I also fear that it might make people who don’t (or can’t) do the same feel bad, or annoyed.
But maybe it’s just as likely that they could find it inspiring. Which would be good. Maybe a little cheesy, but still good.
Anyway, as people always tell you: who cares what other people think?
(Unless it’s positive, of course. 🙂 –Why don’t people always tell you that?)
But now that I’m thinking about it, I do know one thing about this tendency to look for bright spots: it definitely is not forced.
I also don’t think it’s particularly heroic, or inspiring.
For me, I think it’s more just a survival instinct.
Because it feels terrible, to lie in bed and be filled with despair and anxiety about death or sickness or what terrible secrets your next MRI might reveal. It’s almost physically painful. Sometimes, it actually is physically painful.
And just as you would quickly grab a hot coal that was sitting on your skin and toss it away in a desperate (and logical, and instinctive) attempt to stop the pain, so do I want the pain of worry and fear and anxiety to stop as quickly as fucking possible, when it does appear.
And so I look quickly for bright spots. I search for the shimmer of a positive thought in whatever happens to be around me– even if that happens to be a total fucking nightmare.
To save myself from pain (because I am actually a big pussy!) I turn to laughter, or hope, and hope that I can find–or even invent–something that will help me get the burning coal off of my skin.
This, I realize, is why I make jokes about it. (Cancer!🙂
Because it’s painful, having this disease. (Cancer.)
No matter how you got it, or where you have it, it can really hurt.
It can be really scary.
And it doesn’t give you a break– it constantly dominates your thoughts and fills your mind (in my case, literally).
So when I go searching for bright spots, my search is often rooted in The Cancerful.
That might seem odd, but whatever I can do to cure myself, I do it.
It doesn’t always work, but sometimes it does.
And even if it only lasts for a moment, a cure is still a cure.
And when you’re in pain, you’ll take all the cures you can get.
Speaking of which, I feel a lot better now. Stomach, headache, and sleepiness have all ratcheted down to a level that is tolerable.
I have no idea why. I mean, I could get all grandiloquent and suggest that I just cured myself with my own mind, but I think the reality is that I just needed to close my eyes and get off the computer for a few minutes. Maybe go outside, get some fresh air.
Hey– whatever it takes, I’ll take it.
Incidentally, I just realized that it was three years ago that I was talking about the positive side effects of having brain cancer.
Three years! There’s another bright spot, right there.