Remembering and forgetting

by Hilla Duka

raindrops on a branch

It comes and goes, this dealing with cancer thing. Well, I mean, I obviously deal with it all the time, but sometimes I deal with it better than other times.

 

Sometimes I forget that I'm going to LIVE with cancer, that I won't die from it, that I'm supposed to become a bloody miracle patient. I feel sorry for myself and for my kids and Ilir and my parents and my brother. I wallow in self pity. I absolutely engross myself in sadness and death, doom and gloom, to the point where it becomes almost impossible to stop, to see another way.

 

And then something happens and it can be the smallest thing, but it just makes me realise how selfish and dramatic and destructive I'm being, and I will just stop, turn it around. I've had a bad couple of days, with my head trapped in unforgiving and unwanted futures, but I'm back now. I'm alive now, and I will stay here and now and not go dallying off to unforeseeable futures. That is, I will until the next time I forget.


Ups and downs, highs and lows. Life is a rollercoaster, and even more so with cancer.


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