Letting Go

Some days I lose track of the date or day of the week.  At 48, I have no intention of retiring this young, but imagine that this is how retirement would feel.  As I lay in bed sweating, with puffy, swollen hands and feet, I feel old enough to be retired, but when I hear the birds singing, I smile and propel myself out of bed.   I’ve been on this journey so long already, that I nearly forget my previous working life.  Acclimating to life outside of the clinic took about 2 months.  I can only imagine it taking as much time, if not longer, to get accustomed, once again, to a daily routine of seeing patients, charting, reviewing results & correspondence, refilling prescriptions and the list goes on.  I’ve been lucky enough to keep in touch with the administrative side of medicine – attending meetings, reviewing performance reports and quality metrics, so, at least I know the environment in which I’ll be returning. 

As I near the final treatment in this chemotherapy regimen, the planner in me yearns to take over and start to outline what returning to work will be like.  Every attempt to foreshadow my schedule and envision my re-entry into a normal routine is thwarted by the “what ifs”.  Although my last chemotherapy treatment in this course is scheduled for June 17^th, my white cell count still needs to return to normal, my port needs removal and my PET scan needs to show clearance of disease before I can regain a normal routine.  Since my PET scan is slated for mid-August, I know that I will have at least a month of transition, before changing from the “sick person” schedule to a pattern where I no longer worry or think about what appointment lies ahead. 

While I certainly had hoped for a clean house, purging all the junk in the garage, or at least an accomplishment to display, this journey was not meant for those tasks.  My house is only slightly cleaner than the day I took leave.  While I organized some files, the new workload of medical bills, insurance EOBs (explanation of benefits), disability paperwork, committee meeting minutes and medical information on lymphoma have added more papers to the pile.  The garage is still full of meaningless boxes that were moved from my old house in Seattle, before Chris and I were even married.  Yet, internally, there has been some purging, organizing and cleaning. 

Days are no longer measured by accomplished tasks, but more by how I feel.  If I’m tired, I take a break, a nap or walk instead of run.  I’m no longer running to get my fastest time or reach the finish line so I can move on to something else.  When I run, I breathe in the cool, fresh air, listen to the birds chirping (or music), and smile as others run past me.  I’ve learned to embrace and enjoy the process more than just the accomplishment.   Even when my legs feel like lead weights and my fingers tingle from the cold, I know that these steps will decrease my nausea, improve my energy levels and I feel thankful for the ability to walk at all. 

Eliminating the most disruptive, unhelpful or painful aspects of my life has been my purging.  Rather than increasing my anxiety over how I can possibly complete all the tasks for the day, I prioritize what needs to be done and settle for what I can accomplish.  The world is not going to end if I don’t finish my to-do list today.  If I’m getting further behind, then I need to eliminate something.  It’s a time to re-evaluate what I am doing, whether I’m doing it well and if there is value to what I’m doing.  While blogging was initially a struggle or chore for me, it has now become a focal point.   When I find myself wandering aimlessly, I return to writing, to provide the compass for my trek. 

I’m no longer plagued with “checking things off my bucket list”.  If I never make it to Australia or fly in a seaplane, it will be okay.  I live to see tomorrow.  If I wake up to a cloudy, dreary day, then I embrace the cool weather and the ability to work around the house or listen to a book.  Should the day greet me with sunshine and warmth, I will venture outdoors to smell the roses and savor nature’s beauty.  Whatever life throws my way, I know that, with God’s help, I will make it through.  This joy and freedom cannot be extinguished by the destruction of chemotherapy, the elimination of titles or positions, the loss of strength or the reduction of my income and patient panel.  My biggest fear in returning to work, is losing sight of this quintessential focal point and getting buried in the clutter once again.   Like a wild race horse, I may need to rely on blinders to avoid distractions and stay on course, but the peace of this moment makes the journey worthwhile.  

Out of clutter, find simplicity.  From discord, find harmony.  In the middle of difficulty, lies opportunity.  ~ Albert Einstein

Even majestic Mt. Rainier would be more elegant & pristine without the building, telephone lines and cars in the picture.