And Now, The Toughest Part Of All, or Live Is A Verb

We now resume our regular programme, which is already in progress. I.e., if you’re not completely well, you’re as good as, so get back to work, kiddo. 

Crisis more or less over, it’s now time to pick up where you left off in normal living. And honey, if you thought were behind before, you must now run about a hundred miles an hour just to keep from falling any farther behind.

It’s my belief that we were all put on this earth to accomplish a certain number of things and I am now so far behind, I can never die. <———– That used to be a joke. What the hell, it still makes me laugh. And who knows, perhaps duties, obligations, and work ethic have a power that will dwarf mere chemotherapy.

Today is not all about cancer, or chemo, or life-span. It’s about getting back to work. It’s about getting more exercise, it’s about living, and living means you’ve got things to do.

No, you can’t go from 0 to 60 immediately––but you are expected to work your way back up to your previous level and then move beyond even that. You really want to live? Live is a verb, active not passive.

As an old Reebok commercial once pointed out, life has two settings: pause and play. Press play and get your ass in gear.

You don’t just beat cancer and celebrate. You have to keep get up and beat it again, every day. And in the wse words of the immortal Satchel Paige, Don’t look back––something might be gaining on you.

Okay…let’s go!


7 thoughts on “And Now, The Toughest Part Of All, or Live Is A Verb

  1. Hey, Pat! I’d missed the last couple of entries, so I just went and read backwards. Great news about the current protocol working. I hope you get more energy and can enjoy being, uh, “verbal.”

    Like, in living…

  2. Just a little note that to me you are the best that ever was. (I don’t know why wordpress wants to post this as Sense of Wonder, it’s Erin Hoffman, which probably doesn’t clarify much either. 😉 )

  3. Yeah, mostly. Just remember for every month of chemo, schedule yourself two month’s worth of recovery. Sometimes the “living” part of recovery is lying down on the sofa in the middle of the day with a cat, a blanket and a good book, and taking a nap – because your body has been beat to crap and really really could use a break. I, too, was determined to get out there and Get Shit Done asap after chemo… I collapsed and damned near fainted after ten minutes of mild gardening. Your body will tell you when to quit and take a rest. Listen to it – right now, it’s smarter than you are.

    • I’ll keep you in my thoughts.

      With something like this, it’s impossible to predict but generally, I’ve noticed that it’s more often good news than not. Don’t get ahead of yourself and remember to breathe.

  4. I’m so glad you’re doing so well! I have to tell you, in about an hour I go to an Ob/Gyn doctor to have something checked out that could be anything from Nothing to Cancer, and I have been paralyzed with terror. But yesterday Aliette deBodard tweeted that you had good news so I came over and back-read it all. You are amazing and inspiring (and those are two words I never, ever thought I would hear myself gushing at anyone!) and I may be coming back to reread it all … more than once. In the meantime, thank you thank you thank you for your funny, wise, healing posts.

  5. Hi Pat
    Your writing has meant so much to me. I can determine where I was and what I was doing by looking at the Pat Cadigan stories I was reading at the time. I think a lot about you – and how you are at the moment – and I wish I could take some of your load from you. As I can’t, maybe you could just think of your fans like me out her in fandom, aiming positive energy at you. Your welfare means so much to me that perhaps that’ll count somewhere.
    I do so hope so.
    Maybe your biggest fan

    • Hi, Steve––

      Thank you so much for your message; I’m really touched. People like you have enabled me to maintain my strength and optimism. And every writer I know would love to read a message like yours.

      Thanks again––I appreciate your good words more than I can say.

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