My heart, like a leaky faucet has a way of sneaking up on me. Subtly and steadily I could hear the water dripping but I never looked at the clog. No, that’s not true. I knew there was a clog, I just didn’t do anything about it. There were feelings hidden behind my chest, I knew that, I just didn’t know how many.
When the light turned on to see the drip I saw the sink was so full of water it was overflowing onto the floor. It was shocking, frantically I tried to mop it up, throwing down towels and scooping the water with my hands.
There was so much more than I thought. It wasn’t a sink, it was a swamp, a bog at the edge of the abyss. I was trying to drain a swamp with a few hand towels. There was so much, how could I stand against so much? I tried, I tried to do something. I needed to get rid of all that water, but I couldn’t. I was frightened, I had to get away, I had to run, so I ran, but there was nowhere to go.
I got into my car, and drove, I drove to Kansas City. Once I got there I cried. I cried because no matter where I go, there I am. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to run or hide. There is no escape.
The journey of cancer is a horrible one. With incredible twists and terrible turns, it’s a roller-coaster too tall for everyone. I’ve hated every roller-coaster I’ve ever ridden; the Great Cancer Adventure is no exception.
Even with fancy carnival rides we can’t get off till the ride is finished. This ride has proven no different and though I hated the ride, at least I had someone to take a few rounds around the track with me. Someone to help me forget just how scary the twists and turns can get.
Surrounded by thick bog stink and swamp mud clinging to my clothes I look to the future. I can start swimming into the abyss or climb back on these wretched rails. Right now I just want to take a breath and rest.