Yesterday was a long day waiting in queues in the hospital. Many patients lined up for infusion. It made me reflect on why I had written such (apparently moving) prose to my family and friends. Why would I want to invade their lives with my trouble and stir up all kind of emotions?
Honestly, I prefer to deal with it myself, and not be a bother to others. That is how my clock ticks and how I have dealt with major trauma's in the past. But as I have learned from my brothers and sisters, knowing what I go through makes it easier for them to connect and help me.
Still.... I felt the conflict of choice to deal with this in solitude. Anyway, wat is done is done.
Being among hundreds of cancer patients yesterday, their visible signs of surgery, their empty eyes, pale or black skin, sad but grateful smiles to visitors, quiet demeanour... I was energetic when I came in that morning, but was completely drained by the time I reached home.
ps: In the hospital I realised that the questions I asked myself in the previous blog (about what we are not, and what we are not given) requires more thought and I will write about this another time.
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