SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Monday, Apr. 23, 2018 @ 2:21 pm
Thesis/Cancer



Daniel is convinced that he has fatty liver disease or cancer.

He describes his symptoms to me in detail, shows me the web articles. The doctor poked around his organs and said there is definitely something going on there.

I am convinced that he is manifesting the stress over finishing his thesis in his liver.

We are away with his family at a cabin in the Shuswap. I get up early one morning and go for a walk, the morning air cold and the sky blue, my first time out without a parka since last fall.

I begin to seriously contemplate what would happen in he does have late stage cancer.

We are days away from posession of a house. We're standing at the bank putting all of our money into a bank draft, watching Kate in her red coat with her new son/prince, and I sign the draft, realizing that it's Gord's birthday. Gord, who died of brain cancer. Daniel twitches, says there's a shooting pain in his side. The lady tears off our copy of the draft, and I put it into my envelope of paperwork.

What would I do? I have no reason to be here, in Revelstoke, if he were to pass away. Complete unhinging. What am I doing with my life?

I consider moving back to Vancouver to be closer to family but that doesn't feel right. I think about staying put, continuing my current routine, and wonder if a new partner would emerge here in town. I think about moving back to Victoria, into an apartment in Fairfield, and returning to my stormy morning runs along the ocean. The camas and silk flowers wavering in the salty wind. Strong cups of coffee, fingerless mittens, the heady smell of the yarn store, and a bright old apartment with old, thin windows.

I think about buying a bed and breakfast on Salt Spring. Goats and a dog and a cat and a steady stream of company to distract me from my loneliness.

He's absolutely convinced it's cancer. I'm absolutely convinced it's his thesis.
Maybe it's both.

I take a day off work and set up a booth at the Farmer's Market to sell soap.

And with that, I accomplished a life dream. To sell my crafts, art, at a local market.

My mother-in-law asks, "Was it profitable?" And I respond: Yes, it was amazing. I accomplished a life dream, made friends, and learned a lot. I went into it terrified and came out feeling on top of the world.

"But was it profitable, financially?"

I stare at her blankly.

I'm not in this for money.

I sit later at the beach, watching the lake lap at the shore.

At times I'm eternally exhausted, not by life and work but by being unseen. That's all I want - to truly and fully be seen.

My period is 40 days late.

D just called me to tell me that he has a fever.

Thesis. Cancer. Thesis. Fever. Screaming toddler. Mother in law. Emails. My retinas ache against the sun.

I could really use a nap. A long, long nap.


Roots | Shoots