I spent today’s gorgeous sunshine sanding and stripping the deck furniture and priming it for it’s eventual coat of bright apple green. Repotted the habaneros, purple basil, and purslane. Took a long walk which deepened the tan I got in Mexico. Am planning something involved and delicious for dinner.
It’s crucial I stay busy today. Tomorrow is my six-month scan - contrast CT, chest X-ray, with their requisite early appointment times and painful IV installations. Though tomorrow is nothing more than routine procedures I have undergone a dozen times through this wooden rollercoaster called cancer, I know the day is rushing toward me where I have to face the results, whatever they might be. What direction will my life take me in the next few days? Can you fathom the deeply existential and absurd not-knowing of all this? Bustling through the dirt in my garden and washing paintbrushes and making shopping lists because it forces me to stay in the present, and all I am given to know is that time feels like it is slowing to a stop; the large machine awaits.
I’m terribly scared and nervous, which helps nothing and no one.