Sitting in the ashes.

When I go to see Dr. G today he asks the prefunctory, "So, how are you?"

I look at him and reply, "From where do you want me to answer that questions? Mentally? Emotionally? Physically?"

"Well, lets take them one at a time."

"Physically my nose and eyes are running all the time. It is like a faucet. There is a burning sensation in my nose when I breath in. The edema is very slightly pitting, nothing alarming. I'm no longer needing the ambien to sleep this week. The neuropathy seems to have abated perhaps due to the raw milk? I've got a severe case of lethary. I nap quite often. I forget everything. I'm eating more than I need to because I can't feel hunger cues anymore. No nausea or vomitting. The hot flashes are not good times. Oh, and I don't have my period anymore."

Dr. G gives me a compassionate nod as I share my growing list of new complaints. I know he has never experienced chemo, but I like his compassionate nods. I know he has some kind of spiritual training somewhere.

So I take a chance.

"Dr. G, do you know the story of the Phoenix that rises out of the ashes?"

"Yes. I do."

(For those of you who do not know of the story, the Mythical bird, the Phoenix "near the end (of its life) builds itself a nest of cinnamon twigs that it then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes, from which a new, young phoenix or phoenix egg arises, reborn anew to live again." - Wikipedea)

"Well, that is what is going on with me Dr. G. I have a serve case of the 'blahs'. I am sitting in the ashes. I am nothing. Absolute nothingness."

It is so hard to remember that this 'blah' is not who I am.
It is so difficult to know that this will pass and become a memory of some another time.
So I sit and I wait.
At some point to be born again, a new.

And I can see that Dr. G gets it.

(The artwork I found online is called Phoenix......from Ashes, by lovelychristina: http://lovelycristina.deviantart.com/art/phoenix-from-ashes-75377132?offset=90)