I wonder to myself, “Is this a slow suicide?” Just take the pill, everything will be alright, you’ll be okay.
But I don’t want to take the pills anymore. Night after night, I’ve been a slave to the little white pill that’s supposed to keep the cancer at bay.
I had myself a big pity party yesterday, and I wrote about my misery in-depth for this blog. I was going to post it right away, but instead, I decided to sleep on it this time. In it I whined about the deep bone pain, vision impairment and other side effects from my medication. And how now, these meds have started to take my mind.
I wrote about how I’ve decided to quit taking them, and that not every ending is what you want it to be.
But morning has a way of changing one’s perspective. Ever since I was young, when times have gotten tough, I’ve often repeated a phrase I once read in a Russian folk tale: “Morning is wiser than the evening.”
I’ve lived by that phrase throughout my life, when I’ve felt I can’t go on. Whether it be the pain from the death of my father or brothers, my cancer diagnosis or other losses along the path of life. Sleep off the pain, sleep off the grief, morning is wiser than the evening, and with it brings renewal. Even though that renewal might be just bit-by-bit.
This morning I went off to church, still a bit moody. We had some guest speakers today, Connie and Lizzy, an aunt and niece duo. Over the course of two years, Connie had lost both of her feet and then her hands, due to some still-unknown ailment.
Wheelchair-bound, Connie chose to live a life full of joy and excitement, even though her path through life didn’t end up what she wanted it to be. She spoke of “corrupting” another lady in a wheelchair to “escape”the clinic with her and go chase turkeys in a nearby farm field. Oh, the joys of simple silliness, long forgotten in my life.
Lizzy, her caregiver, spoke how hard it was to keep up with Connie and hold her back from the things that many people believe she shouldn’t be doing.
After hearing them speak, I felt both foolish and yet renewed. My misery seems so trivial in comparison, and I realized that sometimes we all need a lesson on attitude adjustment.
Maybe Connie’s life story didn’t go in the direction she wanted it to, but she has the right attitude and the mentality that her mission isn’t over yet. Nor is mine or yours.
And so, I’ll take a break from the medication, and maybe even try a new one. Just because it’s getting tough, it doesn’t mean I can give up. I once again crawl, until I get on my feet again, just like we’re all known to do at times.
Just keep that focus forward, because when our eyes are on ourselves, they’re facing in the wrong direction.