Saturday, April 28, 2018

Temporary Final Post

I have decided to take a break from this blog for a while. I need to stop and do research and analysis about my cancer journey. That means I will be recording my daily observations, collecting data, and looking for patterns–all boring stuff to write about.

Thank you for reading. Many blessings.

Curious Hart

Saturday, April 21, 2018

Swedish Death Cleaning

Yes, there is such a thing as de-cluttering before you die. It means going through your possessions before your unhappy relatives do and getting rid of stuff. I began the process three years ago, after my Aunt Helen was put in a care facility. I tell you it is no small chore to completely empty a house.

Getting a cancer diagnosis and undergoing chemotherapy put a halt to the process, as in a complete cabosh (is that the word I want? Is that even a word? Even if it isn't, I want it!) Now that I am feeling better, I have resumed the task. This week my husband and I tackled the garage:part one and the guest bedroom.

(Note: I say garage:part one because I foresee the garage having multiple parts before it is completely cleansed and organized.)

Although it seems daunting at first to going through all of your closets, cupboards, and drawers, once you begin, it's relatively easy. The de-cluttering muse comes upon you, the scales fall from your eyes, and you realize that you did not need to keep that oversize jacket that you never wore after all.

Juxtaposed against this de-cluttering process is a brouhaha, a tempest-in-a-teacup, fomented by a professor at Fresno State University. Apparently this professor posted a tweet denigrating Barbara Bush the day after the former first lady's death. Many people are upset by this; others are supporting the professor right to free speech.

As for me, I think that when a person resorts to name-calling and labeling, they expose themselves as having very little to say. Their ideas and opinions lose credibility with me. On the other hand, I feel sorry for such people because of the baggage they are adding to their character—there are some things that, once they are acquired, cannot be de-cluttered. Name-callers take on baggage that they will carry with them for a lifetime. Good grief! Who wants that? I don't think the name-callers do; I just think they don't realize what they are doing. Poor things.

(Note to self: Take care not to add clutter to your life that you will not be able to get rid of later—and don't leave it to your family members after you are gone. It's not fair.

Saturday, April 14, 2018

A Cancer Journey ~ Destination Becomes Journey

"Delight yourself in the little things, and you will always be delighted, for the world is full of little things."
The Book of Rhino

One the changes I have noticed in my recovery from cancer treatment is I am more of a Journey Girl than a Destination Girl. The Now Girl. I am not so fussed about long term plans for the future as I used to be. I am just happy to get out of bed in the morning and walk into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

I have shoved in my oar; the little things are rowing the boat.

Saturday, April 7, 2018

A Cancer Journey ~ The Masters Golf Tournament

Not all recovery days are alike; some are better than others. Today is a good recovery day because (1) the Masters Golf Tournament is taking place, (2) it's Saturday, and (3) it's raining.

Today I will watch the Masters Tournament in a room where the window shows rain falling from an heavy sky * while working on a needlepoint project. I will also start a new jigsaw puzzle. Life is good.

Rain on a Saturday makes me feel that I do not have to do anything useful or productive. It is my excuse for living as a human being, not a human doing. On the other hand, my hands insist on doing something, like needlepoint or puzzles. Apparently they do not see themselves as part of the human being race. I do not fault my hands for thinking this way; all their lives, they have been doing things. They are used to being active so I accommodate them, and let them have their way with needles, scissors, fabric, and tiny pieces of cardboard.

Today I will watch the Master Tournament in a room where the heavy sky lets in just enough light to keep my hands entertained—they are not big on golf.

* In her book H is for Hawk, Helen MacDonald describes an overcast sky as "the colour of wet cement." I think that is heavy.