One Final Reflection

 

Photo by Jaunathan Gagnon on Unsplash

Last week I wrote two posts about my increasing awareness of being chronically disabled from the physical toll of 19 years of cancer and 18+ years of treatment. This week I had appointments with two different medical providers, and they added their own perspectives to my thoughts.

And maybe now I am ready to come to terms with where I am.

The first appointment was with my personal physician, with whom I have a great relationship. I shared with her some of the thoughts I have been mucking around in as I come to accept that I am disabled. She looked at me, then said, "You do know that you became chronically disabled the day you were diagnosed, yes?" Oh, yeah, I do know that, but it was never really on my mind until these newer changes and and their emotional and physical impacts on me.

The very next day I was at oncology and had an appointment with Katie, one of the Certified Nurse Practitioners there (Tim was rounding). I shared with her the same  thoughts and she said, "I hear you. It is a bitter pill to swallow." She then suggested that I focus on my abilities and capabilities, which are numerous. Katie did not present this in a chipper "Count your blessings!" tone or suggest I was being self-indulgent given my longevity with the myeloma, but was very matter-of-fact. Yes, it is bitter and yes, you are still here.

My barn having burned down, I can now see the moon. 

That is a 17th century haiku by Mizuta Masahide, a Japanese poet and, yes, a samurai. I used to keep it taped above my desk at Juvenile Court. And I think that sums up where I am: the barn is burned to the ground, but what a view of the moon I now have.