I have hair again. I took this photo with my computer to prove it. The computer named the photo with the date and time it was taken. So this was me living in that moment. Â But what comes next?
I have been wondering when I would continue this blog again. Maybe I could just quit with clear scans and let the blog have a brief and troubled life with a happy ending. My months of active treatment gave my life and this blog a structure.
Time has flowed on the holidays have come and gone, world events keep happening, people being born, dying and all of us getting older. I’m ‘retired’ from my job, at least for a while, so I find myself with time on my hands- not writing much, not finishing projects or beginning new ones, and too often I seem to have lost the ability to just relax and enjoy.
I  have become deeply anxious about time. How much do I have  and what shall I do with it?  With time seemingly opening up again before me, I find myself  at a loss in knowing how to proceed.
My physical recovery has been like growing hair an almost imperceptible but steady process, one that can be measured. It is reassuring to watch my hair return but the processes beneath my skull have become only more muddled. I find myself longing for the clarity of spirit that I seemed to possess not that long ago.
I share this because I’m not feeling so overwhelmed and disorganized today, because I gave myself an end of the month deadline, and because I want to connect with others who have been here or someplace similar before me.
I’ve heard that it can be a difficult adjustment after active treatment, chemotherapy, etc ends. But I thought that with all the good work I’ve done to reconcile myself to my own mortality and lessons I thought I’d learned about living with uncertainty it might be easier for me. Not so.
Facing the inevitability of death  makes all the rest just a question of timing. But what a hell of a question it is.
Here is something I wrote in a letter recently about my current perspective on living in the moment and making each moment count.
I remember the last few months of my sisters life and how much I wanted to spend ‘meaningful’ time with her, have heart to heart talks, go special places. As it turned out, the times I remember most fondly with her were just laying around watching movies together hanging out with her and family not talking much at all. The things that seemed so important to me, were not a big deal to her. I realized only after she was gone that my simple presence meant more to her than any great thing I might do or say.
I guess my perspective is that we do have an opportunity to make each moment count. But, at least for me, sometimes my ideas about what counts and what is wasting time can lead me astray. I spend a good deal of my life thinking that doing is more important than being and measuring worth by my accomplishments which always fall short of what I wish.
My experience with cancer has made me more mindful and I don’t take as much for granted. But it is not a steady state. When I am feeling well and not facing a crisis it is easy for me to slip back into old habits of taking my good fortune for granted and getting irritated by petty things. I don’t think we’re designed to make every moment count. We are naturally unaware and forgetful. It is useful for me to cultivate habits of mindfulness and try to be patient with my failings.
Living Well - Ongoing Adventures in Uncertainty 
Terri, I love your honesty and your process. And I could so relate to that desire to be spiritual and have it all together, as well as the reality of the limbo state you find yourself in. I also love your description of the end of your sister’s life–and how all your ideas of “special” time faded into the satisfying reality of just being together. Right now, I’m watching my mother slip further into dementia, losing her incrementally, one day, one hour at a time. Mostly when we visit, I just like to sit on the couch and talk with her, and even if the same conversation repeats every ten minutes, or every five minutes, I just like sitting there with her, taking her in and absorbing how happy she is to see me, to have me stop by. And I realize that that may no longer be true in the future….so I want to savor her while she’s here. Personally, I’m so glad you have this blog….I think I may have missed a lot of posts in the middle, but I was so happy to read this today and to see your beautiful face.
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Great picture Terri and great refledtions which I plan to post on my door and use as a reminder about things. today the sun came out and shone on the sparkling snow and I enjoyed looking at the many footprints animals left in it during their nighttime activities. What a joy and simple pleasure to experience. Georgia
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Once one has had it, one knows that this party has an end and we are not in charge of that. I agree, when the ca scan time comes I get all bunged up and anxious and as you say when all seems clear I get caught up in the same old petty BS. Mindfulness, being here now. That’s all there is
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Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I have not been wanting to bug you, but Harold has been bugging me to contact you about April. We are going to the Big Sur marathon again and we want to come to S.F. to see you or can you come down to Carmel?
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Thank you, Terri, for showing your strength and your weakness at the same time. You are a strong and beautiful person, and you have got the courage to share your inner thought with us. I follow your thoughts to the last period, and I do learn from your writings. So, just to let you know, your experience means a lot to us.
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I just reread this. I’m so glad you think, question , endure and exist .I don’t want to irritate you but it is unique and I’m so glad you’ve been in my life and are still.
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