Fire bad. Tree pretty.
When I moved to the PNW, I was terrified of wildfires. I’m from the midwest, where our natural disasters come in the form of tornados. I’m comfortable with tornados. I know what to do in a tornado. I’ve lived through a (very tiny, but it still counts) tornado.
But wildfires were brand new to me. And though they seem to be a normal part of the dry season in this part of the country (at least in some capacity), I was filled with anxiety at the thought of being trapped in one. Everything was so dry! It wasn’t raining! (This is Seattle, why wasn’t it raining???) Wildfires are unpredictable and newsflash MADE OF FUCKING FIRE.
My first summer here was the year of the Eagle Creek Fire, when a kid set Columbia Gorge on fire with fireworks during a burn ban. It destroyed about 50,000 acres of land. It completely decimated scenic hiking trails, caused ash to rain down on Portland, and smoke drifted from this fire (and others) to blanket the Seattle area. I remember feeling so sad when it happened. So much area completely destroyed. But even then, even at the time when so many were mourning such a pointless loss of beauty, there were calmer people saying, “It’ll come back.” It wouldn’t always be all fire. Someday, the water would return. The forest would regrow. Basically:
Lately, I’ve been feeling like some dumb kid set my body on fire with a firework. Sometimes I forget how much trauma my body has gone through, is still going through, and then I have a bad day and think, “oh yeah…right. THAT.”
Cancer treatment is no joke, and it’s not kind, physically or mentally. It feels like they’re destroying my body in order to save it. Earlier this week, the radiation nurse was explaining some of the after-treatment side effects, and she said that, along with the good side effects of radiation, the bad side effects will increase and continue for a while after treatment. Honestly, I had completely forgotten there were good side effects of this treatment. That the reason they’re putting my body through this is because, hopefully, at the end of it all, I won’t have cancer anymore. But I’m so tired.
The other night, the animal welfare organization I work for held a virtual gala (virtual because COVID). There were, of course, numerous adorable animal videos. I was sitting there, enjoying the show, when suddenly, during one of the videos, I found myself just...sobbing. I mean, the video was heartwarming and all, and I could understand tearing up during it, but I was having a sudden and unexpected flat out mental breakdown.
Later, when I’d calmed down and had some time to think about it, I figured out why I was really upset. That video highlighted just how much my life has changed this year, not just because of cancer but because of the pandemic, as well. A year ago, we had two dogs, I went to my job every day and got to interact with people AND animals, and I volunteered walking dogs with another shelter. What hit me during that video was that...I miss my old life, my normal life (and dogs, especially). The path back to normal feels so...unknown. I don’t know how or when or if I’ll get there.
I just keep focusing on a glass of water. That probably sounds like nonsense, but back in September, right after surgery, all I wanted was a nice, cold glass of ice water. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything by mouth. All my fluids were being delivered by IV, which was great for staying hydrated, but my mouth was incredibly dry. I just wanted a drink of water. I thought of that the other day, when I pulled out my water bottle while at the doctor to get a drink.
Even when I was initially allowed to start drinking water by mouth, I had to use this syringe with a catheter tip on it and basically shoot the water to the back of my throat so I could swallow it. Now I can drink all the water I want like a regular human person.
It might not seem like huge progress, but it’s something concrete I can focus on. It’s evidence that progress is being made and it’s a sign that, one day, things might feel somewhat normal again. So, though my body right now feels like it’s been ravaged by fire, I’m going to focus on the healing and, of course, the water.
This picture was taken in July, which was approximately 1000 years ago.