I met up with some of my extended family over the weekend at my Aunt’s house, and damn, it was awesome. In fact this whole weekend from Friday night to now has been an exercise in learning just how many people are in my corner, ready and willing to help me whenever I need it. I am beyond grateful for everything.

I also haven’t been totally honest with pretty much everyone I’ve meet up with. I’m not doing quite as well as I said I was.


I didn’t really realize it until I got home an hour or so ago after speaking to my cousin, my brother and their respective partners. They asked me how I was doing and I told them about all the good things that have been happening and painted a pretty rosy picture all things told. It wasn’t until I pulled into my driveway that I realized I’d left quite a lot out.

The problem is I can’t get my brain to work properly, and while I think it’s a side effect that’s going to pass, it’s really starting to bother me.

Pre- chemo I was a fount of story ideas, both for my day job in advertising and in my own creative endeavors. I had so many ideas it overloaded me a lot of the time, and I had to write them down for later (on that vein if anyone knows where I left my notebook full of ideas, let me know) but now when I try and get my brain to give me an idea I’ve got nothing. It hasn’t been so bad at work, usually if I have enough time to think I can come up with something, but it really bugs me that my mind doesn’t move the way it used to.

Don’t get me wrong here, I would still 100% have done the chemotherapy if even if I knew for sure that this would have happened…I also know just how lucky I am to have survived, but I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t affecting my state of mind.

I also know for sure that this might just be a bout of depression.

That doesn’t make it any less real, or any less frightening. Being able to be creative is a big part of my self image, and the way I relate to the world, and not being able to do it as well as I could has been surprisingly rough.

I had hoped that I’d come out of chemo with a rekindled fire for life, and now that I’ve found the opposite I think I’m a bit disappointed in myself. That’s entirely unreasonable, but again, no less real.

Still, I get to say that tomorrow is another day I get to be here for, and maybe things will be better then.

I hope so.