Once you get slapped in the face with mortality (perceived or predicted; but real nonetheless), emotions tend to expand exponentially. It's not that suddenly mine are more important than before (or more important than anyone else's feelings), it's that they become more acute.
They say it's all part of the package of cancer, and I can confirm the warning. But remembering that, during the heat of a mood swing, is a real challenge to maintaining perspective. And pushing through the episode takes all the Lamaze breathing techniques I picked up from watching my wife deep-breathe her way through the birth of our four children.
There’s a lot of things that change instantly once the “C” word is uttered. Some things will never be the same. Other things will very definitely be the same again. What I cannot change -- I must accept. What I can change -- I must tackle as best I can; one treatment, one side effect, one setback, one needle stick at a time.
Maybe it's my turn now to mentally "push" through a painful thought and get back to the positive, in the same way a mother pushes through - to achieve the positive of a new-born child. After all, the same old me is going to be a whole new me . . . once this is all over.
