TheBanyanTree: life underwater

[Julie Anna Teague]

Sometimes this week, I have felt like I am floating below the surface. All
voices are very far away and come to me slowly, sink slowly into my head, slog
around in the wet space in there, possibly find a meaning, possibly not. It's
nice down here unless some kind of correct response is required of me.
Unfortunately, very often, on the job or from my kids, some correct response is
needed. Other times I have felt I am pumping my arms, fingers together for more
resistance, and kicking my legs furiously to get to the top where I can breathe.
I have squished around, soggy and slow, for a week now, waiting for my energy to
return.

I don't know what this is all about, this underwater feeling, but think maybe it
is a delayed response to all of the cancer stuff. We have emmersed ourselves in
cancer information, cancer cures, cancer diets, cancer stories. I have repeated
the whole story of detection, doctors, and diagnosis till I am blue in the face.
Because people really do care and want to know, which is wonderful. But I am
tired now. I need a break from cancer. I need to sit on the back porch and eat
pizza and drink wine with my partner until we forget all about it for a short
time. But this is not going to happen because he is not drinking at all, and we
have moved from three weeks on the cleansing raw diet, to a strict macrobiotic
diet. Once again, I am trying to be supportive with shopping for special foods,
learning new recipes, and eating the same things he is at our meals together. I
don't have to do this, but it is hard to stay on a weird diet, and so it feels
important to me not to be eating pizza in the next chair over. I want a break
from cancer, but Lee does not get a break from cancer. He will never get a
complete break from this cancer, not ever, for the rest of his life. That is
overwhelming for him sometimes, and I feel like a jerk for wanting something as
simple as a night off the diet, a night of fun and light conversation and not
giving a damn what we eat or drink. He, on the other hand, wants to beat cancer,
and feels like this diet is the way to do it.

This, too, shall pass. My good friends on sabattical will be home this summer,
and we will sit on the back deck and eat snacks and drink wine and talk about
anything and everything, exactly as we have done for years.  And I will possibly
be able to forget, for an hour, that the love of my life has cancer. I wish that
so hard for him, too, that I could cry.

Julie