Life-threatening events are supposed to give a person a new appreciation for life. Maybe it’ll kick in after the unbelievable fatigue the radiation gives me wears off. Right now perhaps I’m in a grief stage, because all I can think about is all the things I wanted to do that I’ll never get to. My finances are gone and I’ll never be able to build them back up. If I can get out of the hole we’re in and out of debt, that alone will be a miracle. There will never again be extra money. I will never get to retire.
Since I did nothing to get this cancer in the first place, there is nothing I can do to keep it from recurring. I’m helpless. Being helpless makes me depressed. The depression starts the round of “I’ll never get to.”
Here’s my bucket list, that I’ll never get to:
I want to go to Egypt and see the pyramids and the sphynx.
I want to go to the British Isles and do a tour of castles, sit in pubs and listen to people talk in England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and the smaller islands, and buy beautiful yarn made from the sheep there.
I want to see Paris, climb the Eiffel Tower, see the Louvre.
I want to see Venice, and ride in gondolas, see Saint Mark’s Square and the Bridge of Sighs.
I want to see the Alps, and the beautiful Lake Cuomo.
I want to take a cruise, and see whales.
I’d like to see the northern lights.
I want to see Washington DC and other historic parts of New England.
I’d like to see New York City and browse the fabulous stores, and go to some shows.
I want to see the Smithsonian.
I want to see Key West and Epcot Center and Disney World, and take a guide boat through the Everglades.
I want to see Seattle and take the Highway 1 coast drive.
I want to go to Hawaii, Bora Bora, and Tahiti.
I want to own a home and make a fabulous garden.
I want the time to write all the books in my head even if no one ever reads them. Even if they’re crap.
I want the time to knit up all the yarn in my stash. I’d really like to take the courses to become a Master Knitter.
Right now what I want the most is to get through the last week of radiation therapy, then get my energy, saliva and sense of taste back so that I can job-hunt. I suspect my library career is over, considering that I’m losing my hearing and can no longer speak clearly. I have no idea what I can do for a living now. My most anxious hope is that I can get into a three-bedroom home so I can put all my husband’s clutter into his man-cave, and all mine into my study, and have a decent-looking house for a change, and get the rest of my belongings out of storage.