pulchritude

Being human is a novelty not a mere repetition or extension of the past, an anticipation of things to come. Being human is a surprise, not a forgone conclusion. A person has a capacity to create events. Every person is a disclosure, an example of exclusiveness.

One thing that sets man apart from animals is a boundless, unpredictable capacity for the development of an inner universe. There is more potentiality in his soul than in any other being known to us. Look at the infant and try to imagine the multitude of events it is going to engender. One child names Johann Sebastian Back was charged with power enough to hold generations of men in his spell. But is there any potentiality to acclaim or any surprise to expect in a calf or a colt? Indeed, the enigma of human being is not in what he is but in what he is able to be.

                                                                                         -- Abraham Joshua Heschel

Last Sunday night in my living room, surrounded by beautiful friends, we poked our fingers (and thumbs?) into books like pies to see what kind of plums followed them out. This excerpt was discovered by a dear friend. It struck me, as I have been repeating to myself like a mantra: for one, Rilke's poem (let everything happen to you…), but also the nameless phrase "Humans are capable of amazing things" It's clear that this is true, when writing captures your heart, when cancer can be cured.

We had a handsome afternoon lounging in the grass, tossing frisbees, grazing an elegant picnic, bouncing around the arcade, hogging the photo booth. What a wonderful thing, what wonderful people.

I’ve been thinking. Not many people get the opportunity of specific time to dedicatedly shape their inner universe. What a unique experience. Some do this by choice, I suppose, via hermitage or nunneries-- but not this girl. No voluntary solitude for this extrovert. It's a hard thing. 

I’m sitting here, half-way through the week-long chemo regiment, and I can honestly say that it’s hard to shape an inner universe when you can’t keep your eyes open. I haven’t been able to read like I had planned, or write—in fact this blog post is to the edge of my ability. It’s hard to do things, impossible to stay still, yet it’s my only option. No place is comfortable, I am restless and yet exhausted. But I am trying to write something of it down, so I have some way to break up the monotony.

Last night/early this morning I won the award for most interesting patient. First, I had a fever. Nailed it! Then I passed out, twice. I’ve never been the fainting type, but since this has begun I’ve gone out cold three times. It’s a scary thing. I remember parts of people calling my name and carrying me under my arms, waking up for a few seconds half-standing, then on my bed being wheeled across the room. (I'm doing okay now, I just had very low blood pressure)

In other news, I am totally winning the output race. Actually to my detriment, they don’t want me peeing as much as I am—they’re saying my I/O in negative by about two liters (peeing out 2 liters more than I’m getting in). I say, it’s all for the cause. *lackluster fistpump*

I’m counting down the days until chemo is over. I hope when the poison is done being pumped in here, I’ll start to be more myself and less like the drowsy chaperone of my life.

Here’s to better days, brighter futures—both of which I look forward to with glazed eyes and lethargic anticipation…