|That's Teeccino in my mug, I love that stuff (caffeine-free herbal coffee). And yes, I actually do use this typewriter.|
I am sleeping again, occasionally waking up feeling – can you believe it – rested. Which means some wound up thing inside of me has unwound. I am not constantly thinking of outrunning cancer, of the potential shortness of my life, of how I want to cram each day full of fun and closeness and accomplishment.
That said, I must admit, deep down, I fully expect the cancer will come back. It's an expectation that defies logic. I happen upon another woman's story – diagnosed at 40, mastectomy, nine years later, diagnosed again, another mastectomy – and though I know this scenario is not the norm, I am immediately thinking: this will be my story. I'm all but marking my calendar for nine years out.
I'm swimming (three days a week) and running (three days a week) and biking (once or twice a week - on the spin bike or outside on the weekend when weather permits.) And I'm working, setting ambitious deadlines for myself, exploring lots of new work. (You can see some of what I've been up to here.) And of course I'm walking my dear dog every day as well.
So I guess the point is, I'm sleeping. But not enough yet to make up for how much I wasn't sleeping before.