CONTEMPLATING LIFE UNTIL A GNAT FLEW UP MY NOSE

CONTEMPLATING LIFE UNTIL A GNAT FLEW UP MY NOSE. I’ve been idling. Overwhelmed by the mundane aspects of life and the anxiety about medical appointments, I was knocked off track. I was the little engine that couldn’t. The seventy-something-year-old woman that never went through midlife crisis but was derailed by thoughts of a shortening lifespan. In other words, I became the hibernating bear that slept through spring.

I had a difficult childhood and what kept me moving forward then, and yes even excelling, was the thought that tomorrow would be better. I lived for the future because that’s where I thought I would find peace and security. And I did—marriage, children, strong friendships, and satisfying employment. But even in those years, I was constantly thinking about the future. What kid-friendly activities, what home improvements, what personal goals, what new knowledge awaited?

In 1991, I had my first cancer diagnosis. Scared? I was terrified! But I was more worried for my children ages four, six, and ten. I was worried about how my husband would handle it if I didn’t survive.  Again, I looked to the future: How many more chemo treatments?  How old the kids would be if I survived one year, three years, five years?  How long would I have to keep looking over my shoulder? I am now a three-time cancer survivor, all different cancers, the last two being in 2008 and 2020. I have had seven surgeries, five of them major, and multiple medical procedures. One would think that by now, I would be desensitized to medical problems. But I am not. I agonize over every new medical challenge. Well-meaning people always say, “You’ve been through so much, you’ll get through this.” And they are right, I will get through it, but at what cost?

It has become harder for me to use the intellectual ruse of “things will be better tomorrow.” When I became aware that my coping mechanism of living in the future was no longer working, my whole psyche was thrown into a bog of fugue. I knew that I needed to extricate myself from this prison of immobilization.

I am in the process of reading The Art of Uncertainty by Dennis Merritt Jones. It is just one book in a long list of books that I have read to help me navigate this thing called life. (For over fifty years, I’ve wanted to use that phrase— “this thing called life.”) The Art of Uncertainty is the book of the moment for me, and although it has planted a seed, a hope, it didn’t pull me out of the bog.

Not until my granddaughter won a trip to the Minnesota State Fair with her diamond painting of the cover of my novel, was I awakened, put back on track, and rediscovered my remaining resilience. I knew I had to resume  writing the sequel to Crashing Through the Windshield, start blogging again so people wouldn’t  think I was dead, and reenter society.

As I sat contemplating my future and worrying about what might happen, a fungus gnat flew up my nose. I was immediately transported to living in the moment! If you’ve ever had a gnat fly up your nose, even if you haven’t but can imagine it, you’ll know that it is an anchoring experience in the here and now.

So, I’m back, a bit tenuously, but back. I am grateful for all that I’ve experienced, all the support I’ve received, all the excellent medical care, all the caring spiritual and therapeutic care—all that has been afforded me. And I’m grateful to my granddaughter for waking me up, and even to that horrible pesky gnat that resurrected my fighting spirit.

And, no, I don’t know whatever happened to that gnat!