It’s a wonder how much humans can adapt to a particular situation or emotional state. The first time something tragic or painful or intense happens, it’s catastrophic. You don’t know how you will ever be able to get over it. You don’t truly grasp how to cope or what to do with yourself. You don’t understand how life can be like that.
But then you go on. Life goes on. You laugh, because something (else) is funny, and you realise that you can get through this after all. Things will return to normal, or perhaps your new state of mind will become your new normalcy. People and things happen. Or they do not happen. You hope, you dream, you fear, you worry, but you go on. You don’t necessarily move on from your catastrophic event, it just becomes a part of you that you carry around.
Battling cancer becomes a way of life. A friend’s death feeds on you until it grows to be a part of you. Life changes, but it doesn’t.
It’s amazing, how much we are able to adapt, because we need to survive. This is a good thing, because we can ride it out, but it’s terrible, because we forget again and again the world faces its first catastrophe everyday. In the papers today tales of war and of waste, but you turn right over to the TV page.
My point at the beginning of this post was actually a rather personal one: sometimes I forget we are a family battling illness. But days like today it all comes flooding back like a sucker punch that hits right home. (When my dad was first diagnosed with cancer, it didn’t yet occur to me that he might die.)