January is almost over, but I still feel the negative pull of last year. Today I attended the funeral of Adrianus van As, a venerable gentleman of 94 years of age. One can say he had a full life and it was time to go, but Adrianus was one of those few amazing people of principle, who stood up for what he felt was right under the worst period of Holland's history in World War II, and he saved hundreds of Jews from being deported to their deaths. I always feel that people like Adrianus should live forever, to guide us in doing the right thing. As his son, the pastor who officiated at his funeral, said,however, 'besides being a hero, Adrianus was a human being'. I guess. So, human beings must die. Vale Adrianus.
I always felt that my brother Stephan would live forever – at least he would outlive me – even though he was 10 years older than I. He was no hero, just a very clever man, larger than life, who was born into the wrong family and had a very hard childhood that marred him for life. A very human being. Stephan died on 10 December, 2013, just 5 days shy of his 80th birthday. He lived in Florida, so I was at his funeral via Skype, as I also whispered in his ear on Skype on the day he died. Today, attending Adrianuses funeral, I wept almost uncontrollably and felt embarassed, because I realised I was not crying for the deceased, whom I have had the privilege to get to know through my volunteer work, but for my beloved brother, whom I idolised as a child, but with whom I've had a difficult relationship for most of my adult life.
After Adrianus' funeral, I went for orientation in my temping job, which will restart next week. I have not worked in over a year because of my illness, so today was a major advance to recovery. I lasted the three hours and look forward to getting on with my life. The day was a poignant mixture of farewell and hello future. A day to ponder.
Mind you, as I look forward to finally earning some money, I have to say that I am not out of the cancer woods yet. I saw the Professor last week. He told me that my blood test was NORMAL, which means that the Exemestane treatment is working: i.e. it is mopping up the straggling cancer cells. However, he declined to take out the 'port', which bothers me when I move the wrong way in the gym or sit up for long periods. To me that means he is expecting perhaps that the ascitis may return.
Surprisingly, I was not elated at the news that my blood test was normal. It was very strange. It was almost a let down. I was very upset about that. Luckily, on the way home I bumped into Angela, my amazing counsellor. She saw me the next day and explained that I am simply exhausted and, because of that, the good news seems like a downer. It's normal, she said. Evidently one is so geared up to coping with the negative that good news is perceived as the opposite. Or something like that.
My downer did not last long. I am over the moon that I can get back into life. I have been going to the gym a couple of times a week and am up to swimming laps - so far made it to 500 metres. I used to be able to do a mile (1.6km) in half hour, so I still have a long way to go. And, for the past three weeks I've hardly used the walking stick. Woohoo!
ps. I just found this entry that I didn't publish. So, I am publishing it now. Makes sense in April.....
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