As I reach the four-week mark since coming home, I have to marvel at the amount of change that has occurred in such a short span of time. And if I were to stretch that window back another two weeks or so, the difference is even more profound. Three weeks ago, I was anxious to get home so that I could begin reclaiming my life. However, when I finally got home, it was all I could do to stand or walk for five minutes at a time. Seriously. For the first week or so, whenever we went to the grocery store or the box store, I’d be that slightly off-center dude in the mechanized cart / wheelchariot of death contraption who was trying in vain to refrain from running over small, wayward children. And, of course, many people scoffed at me at first. I suppose this is understandable; from a certain perspective, it wasn’t particularly clear that I was in any way physically injured; plus, I still look relatively young. Then the person glaring would notice the trach tube, and the monstrous swelling on the left side of my jaw, and the fact that my suture lines were still leaking some odd combination of bodily fluids (yeah, I was sexy, I know); it was at this point that the floor became the most fascinating thing that person had ever seen.
On some levels, the whole experience was unnerving and anoying. On others, it was totally hilarious. However, it was a keen reminder to me about a few important issues – prejudice, judgmentalism, and self-awareness. I’m sure that I am as guilty of it as anyone else. I know that there have been times I have watched an apparently able-bodied person step lightly out of a car parked in a spot marked for disabled persons. But do I really know? Sure, when the driver jogs quickly across the street, it’s probably a safe bet that the placard is for someone else; still, how simple it is to fall into the most common of prejudices – that only that which can be seen is relevant.
My encounter with cancer has affected a bit of a change in how I view things (I realize that this statement is an enormous shock to your sensibilities, dear reader). As I hope has become obvious to those who have read this blog throughout, I am now making a conscious effort to be more present and aware of the infinity of each precious second that I have to enjoy. Six months ago I was taking my life for granted; it seems there is very little I would not now trade to have one night of experiences from that time again.
As I mentioned yesterday, I would like to write a bit concering why I have recovered more rapidly than projected – or, at the very least, my own opinion of why. Were I to reduce it to its barest components, it is awareness. Please understand, this is not to say that I consider myself uniquely aware, enlightened, or at all beyond anyone else. Simply put, this is the summation of my recent experiences and observations.
When I speak of awareness, there are so many facets that can reflect their own individual meaning for the subject. Regarding my speech, for instance, the primary facet of my awareness is the ownership of and familiarity with all the sensations associated with the process. You see, dear reader, I first stepped onto a stage and in front of an audience over twenty-five years ago; as many of you know, hiatus or two aside, I have never really left the stage. Because of the experiences this avocation has given me, because of my training and my desire to improve, I learned to pay close attention not only to the sound of my voice, but also to the feel of it. The dialects and imitations into which I would so readily drift were a product of that attention to detail. For example, did you know that Sean Connery and Jimmy Stewart have almost identically formed voices? Find someone who can perform a reasonable impression of both men; that person will tell you. For me, both voices were formed in the precise middle of my mouth. The major difference is, of course, Connery’s dialect.
Because I have spent so many years paying attention to how words feel, I believe that I was able to rejoin the ranks of the speaking more easily than anticipated. I’m hoping that this translates to other aspects of my recovery as well; though, honestly, I’m not too sure how it would. This is the point that I believe becomes the reverse of those benefits that I mentioned in yesterday’s update. Since I have spent so much time noticing how things feel – and it’s worth mentioning, I believe, that I minored in Dance while pursuing my B.A., so kinesthetic learning and muscle memory are also deeply incorporated into my daily life – I wonder if it is not easier for me to imagine minute differences, to conjure psychosomatically a previously unnoticed tic or aberration. How will this affect my recovery? Will I let my imagination run away with me? It was (and is) of great comfort to receive the results of last week’s PET scan; it is one thing fewer that can summon up fearmongers in my head.
I will continue this conversation soon, dear reader. I would like to continue cultivation of my self-awareness; I would like your assistance, if I may be so bold as to beseech you for it. Details will follow in Part Two.
For now, I have a Daily Update to pen.
Namaste.
