Dignity

Feb. 25/10 0238 I write down a date in a makeshift journal. If I am tired or have a lot of in my mind , I jot down a few thoughts in point form. I do not always have the time and energy to elaborate. The next time when I sit down to write something , the previous days entry stares back at me. The stark and threadbare entry reminds me of how how important we are to ourselves ,yet how insignificant we actually are. When I strip away the unnecessary aspects of life and am ready to die there and now. I ask . What is left that matters? One human attribute that sticks out is one’s dignity. What constitutes that dignity in ones own eyes , what is required of oneself in relation to others to maintain that dignity. No lies to ones self! It does not matter whether others acknowledge the actions one must take to achieve this. Acknowledged or not , other people that are associated with will sooner or later , if not understand the sincerity , will feel it. Dignity matters , but what makes us feel good? There is temporary satisfaction and some physical comfort upon accumulating trinkets ( the big house , boat etc,) , but all to often people chase trinkets with more desperation and ruthlessness than a junkie looking for a fix. There is no dignity or maturity in selfishness or desperation.There is no dignity in a car. What makes us feel good is how others percieve us. We mistake other peoples enviousness of our baubles for fulfilment. Unfortunately with trinkets , just like the junkie there is never enough and other people become less important than their next fix. Experiences , and surprisingly adverse experiences form a bond and closeness that can not be bought. I assume that is why we drift away from the ones we love. The new daily experiences and contacts start to creep into the special places in our souls where we cherish our loved ones. Absence can also lessen the pain upon the souls departure. The Song of the Day Is “All the Kings Men” by Tom Cochrane The Cancer: I look almost well. The boiling cauldroun inside however becomes a bit much. There is never any comfort. Not even in sleep. Perhaps the chemo therapy that I am now having will change that , statistically the odds are slim. I do not remember what it is like to feel comfortable. Morphine is not the answer and do not take any. Other than the trips to the hospital I have pretty well been in my 300 sq. ft. for 7 weeks now and months on months prior to that. That is cruel but “Ces’t la vie” . With the chemo I have not been able to get to the beach even for a short walk. There is some degree of comfort in movement. I know that I will lose the use of my legs when the cancer metastasises further and am wondering if I will accept the immobility. Obviously there is a sense of urgency when I do have the capability to do something and am frustrated that I have to let those moments pass. The days get longer , my life grows shorter. If I live this way till mid-may there will be another 3 to 5 weeks of recovery and then possibly a few months of symptom free living. Is it worth it? Or is modern medicine stalling my final call?