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In the midst of a pretty big low in energy and attitude, I have to say that I am glad that I can still be of service to so many. Friends who have colds or a frustrating day, or just tired from a long week or anything that allows them to say, “I can’t really complain too much. It’s not chemotherapy. I’m not Jodi.” I’m perfectly ok taking on that role.
I remember, for years, one of my happiest days was going out to play golf with my dad. We’d be having one of those days that you can’t make a shot and you’re wondering why you are spending the day walking around carrying a metal stick and trying to hit a stupid little white ball into a stupider tin cup. But then we would take a minute to be grateful for being together, and having a beautiful day outside, and we would say, “Hey, it’s not chemo.” So, even though I feel like suck, I know that it could be worse, and lots of people are out there feeling worse than me. I hope they won’t mind that just for today, I can be glad I’m not them.
Right now, a day of golf seems long way a way, with barely enough energy to get myself from the bathtub to the couch. Four days post chemo is always the lowest point. And this situation with my tear ducts and pending surgery, as you can imagine, has not made anything easier. I hate to say that I’m depressed, because that’s just way to depressing so I’ll just say that I’m feeling a little sorry for myself and overwhelmed. Nothing that some “Kimmy Schimdt” and painting might not help. I am trying to picture myself on the golf course this summer – not carrying how bad I’m hitting the ball – just happy to be back in the game.
Everything’s relative isn’t it? I watched (another) documentary about the Marines on Guadalcanal in the Solomons right after Pearl Harbor in 1942. I suspect if one laid out a course of chemo treatment many of those gyrenes would have chosen that as a preferable option.
Same, of course, for prisoners of the Third Reich in the same time frame – and likely, prisoners of Boko Haram right now).
Not sure how much comfort the contrast with abject misery at different levels brings to any of us for long. And like many of your friends and loved ones, we all want to do or so anything to make the road you are trudging right now a happier one.
There are a couple of truths that I think bear mentioning:
1) This too shall pass, and you will indeed be back in the game, and I look forward to that day very much
2) I can stand to be a little embarrassed at my own lack of gratitude shown from time to time.
If I ever doubt it, all I need do is drive out on to the Post Road and feel the frustration mount as I travel to some non-urgent event at a rate of efficiency less than I had planned on.
So even on days when I am legitimately down in the dumps – and with far less justification than Reality Girl’s, or perhaps just less justificiation than I can either admit, or discern, I can still honor those who have been or are going through hell with just a little bit of gratitude of my own.
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Hey Jodi – Jeff introduced me to your blog. I’m a post-cancer girl (non-Hodgkins lymphoma) who also enjoyed several rounds of chemotherapy. I remember people quickly swallowing their complaints around me because, as you point out, “Hey, at least it’s not chemo!”
Now that things are back to (new) normal, I find myself annoyed when someone says “Ugh, there’s nothing worse than cold coffee/getting up early/running out of laundry detergent/[insert your own minor irritation here].” Every single time I think “Well, yeah there is.” So you have that to look forward to.
Good for you for keeping your eye on a future golf game, I found having something to look forward to really helped. My thing was Christmas, and it was the spendiest Christmas we ever had (people going through chemo probably shouldn’t have access to credit cards).
Sending you good vibes!
Lisa
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Thanks, Lisa. Now I have more things to look forward to. (1) “Yeah, there is” LOVE IT. (2) golf, (3) Christmas, and (4) everything else!
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Hi Jodi – hope all’s well with you – I’m a little behind in my blog reading and looking forward to catching up with your latest adventures. Hope all’s well. Lisa
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Truer words were never spoken! I would change places with you if that were possible since I have 80 years of experience in coping……but since that is not possible I must tell you how much I appreciate your blog.
I don’t really know what it does for your spirits but it sure helps me knowing that you
are not losing your sense of humor in these trying times.
I promise to golf with you this summer even if you have to hit the ball and drag me thru the course.
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Hang in there Jodi. Coffee whenever u feel up to it…
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Thanks Jodi!
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