Over the holidays, I saw my cousin-in-law who is undergoing chemo for ovarian cancer. When she walked in, she was hunched and moving slowly. “The Chemo-walk,” I later told her. “You’ve got it.”
I urged her about some things I knew about, like getting a temporary handicap placard for your car, and getting a wheelchair just to save energy. “Your energy will be less and less,” I told her.
Besides her, I spoke with few. I wasn’t in the mood for celebrations nor company but that’s not part of the holiday spirit so I mingled.
Later, I tossed and turned the entire night. Finally woke up at around 5:00 and couldn’t sleep anymore. At 6:45 I texted Westina to see if she was up. When she texted back, I immediately called her.
When I heard her voice, I broke down. All night I had been fighting off scenes from the hospital, memories from those dark days. All night, my subconscious flicked at my nerves, jarring me awake. All the tension from having to relive those days flooded out of my eyes as tears.
After the tension was released, I realized that no matter how much time will pass, memories of those days are only a cry away.