Slow and shocky

I moved this update from the previous post; I wanted to stop looking at that photograph.

I did take a bath, in my friend's tub. Took forever in there. Cool water felt good, and my body moves so slowly. I feel so different. Me--but different. Trying to wash carefully, turned into consciously taking care of my body, turned into realizing that this onslaught is nowhere near over. I have a two-week reprieve, then I start interferon. My body is where it has never been, and I have a long way to walk before I'm home.

When I get there, "home" will be different.

There's no way to neatly wrap that. Cancer changes you. Quickly. Deeply. I feel in some ways, more essentially myself. This is a wound, the healing of which will heal me. The soul-work I was doing in my previous life was all about courage, commitment, strength. I chose that path. In some ways, it made me more ready. But I never chose this.

You never know what will happen to you.