Yesterday the oncologist halted chemo. I am not sure if I am done, or if it is just a break. During the 48 hours before my appointment, neuropathy took hold and it felt like I was walking on sand. Some passing tingling in my fingertips. And a lot of pain peeing. I also have a heaviness in my chest and am sneezing.

He went back and forth: one last treatment? a week’s rest and if the neuropathy resolves, resume treatment? stop now entirely? He decided not to do the chemo yesterday and to assess next week. Thank goodness, because last night I had a difficult time falling asleep – the tingling in my feet driving me crazy.

Today I am emotionally in a strange place. I really crave predictability and this pushes on that need. Am I done with this phase? Moving on to the next phase of treatment? Or am I now a week behind the plan?

I am pushing through with exercise. Maybe more than is strictly “recommended”, but it somehow feels like a kind of control. An illusion of control.

I think I expected to wake up with extra energy and motivation this morning, not having had the poison pumped through my veins yesterday. But, no.

Maybe this is a good thing to experience now? To realize that when chemo is really over I will probably not feel like a cow let out of the barn in spring. I will be having to face the reality of surgery. All the emotional turmoil that losing parts of my breast and my nipple will churn up. One step closer from theoretical/hypothetical to reality. Body image. Possibility of lymphedema. Not being able to run or do yoga for a stretch of time.

I don’t want to think about these things. And at the same time, I want very much to have a map in front of me. When do I have radiation. When do I go back to work. When do I feel like –

I am not going to type “me” because I don’t think I ever saw myself as something finished or good enough. I don’t want to return to who I was because I have never wanted to do that. And yet, I don’t want to fall under the ridiculous “cancer warrior” pressure to use this time as a way to morph into some kind of super role model for surviving hardship.

I think I just want to find a life that isn’t centered on how sick I feel, how cancer-ridden my boob is, how ashamed I am of my swollen, painful, unhealthy body.

I need a new hobby that doesn’t function like a mirror – or a selfie.

This morning as I think about running to the lake, fear builds up. I am afraid that the weird sand-feeling will cause me to stumble. The last thing I want now is a broken wrist.

But the squirrels are really active now for some reason. Seasonal? I want to see them. It is one way to stay in the moment – to be with them in those seconds before they scamper out of sight.

Negative capability is just about being in the moment, after all, right? Not judging, not needing to surround anything with meaning or purpose?

Just put the map down for a minute – eh?