This morning I woke up early and decided to use the quiet dawn hours to label some old pictures. Pictures that my kids will probably go through one day and not know who some of the old folks are - people whom they never met, like my grandparents - or places that they may not recognize, like the home that I grew up in.
Then I stopped because I had to throw up. (Well, actually, I seem to be one of those people who can't throw up - but that doesn't stop me from trying.)
This is odd, I thought to myself while kneeling on the bathroom floor. My last chemo treatment was a week and a half ago, and I haven't felt nauseous from it for nearly a week. Maybe it's the Thai greenbeans that I ate just before bed last night. Yes. I did. Even people with cancer have their moments of weakness.
Then I thought, Well, Hell! I just spent an hour preparing to not exist. If that isn't enough to make a person want to throw up, then what is?
I liked that thought a lot. I'm all into embracing what is, and all, but sometimes the truth that I'm living with just makes me want to throw up.
In the end, though, it was probably the greenbeans.