My time horizon

"How long are you planning in the future," my therapist wisely asked during one of our sessions. My answer: March Break.

When confronted with a life-threatening illness that may return at any time, your planning time horizon shrinks significantly. While I want to, I can't think long term. Unfortunately, I have a very hard time concretely thinking of most events in the future. (One of the few things I can visualize is my kids in high school or college/university and helping them get there. Go figure.)

Everything else comes with a big IF.

If I make it to retirement . . .
If I get to dance at my son's wedding . . .
If I make it to Australia . . .
If I'm healthy next summer . . .

I sometimes wonder if this will be the last house I live in. If this will be my last job. If I'll ever own a new car. (I know for sure, Michael will be my last husband - and that makes me happy).

Sometimes this thought process makes me sad and angry, but I'm getting used to it, so it doesn't bother me as much as before. It's like I'm coming to terms with my eventual demise (and trust me, we'll all have our eventual demise, but I'm much more aware of it than most).

I'm sure it must be frustrating for others - especially Michael - that I'm having a hard time planning the future. He sometimes flips through the real estate section of the newspaper, pointing out properties that would be nice to consider. I can't even go there. I can't commit to something like moving and leaving him with a new house (with no memories of me) and a big mortgage. I can't even think about replacing our beat up 1993 Saturn wagon because I'm afraid I won't be able to help pay it off.

Even when people ask me seemingly insignificant questions about what I plan to do with my rapidly returning hair - keep it short, grow it long again, colour it - I can't answer them. I don't know. I fear I'll need chemo again and I'll once again lose the precious locks I've just managed to grow. I like having hair, eyebrows and eyelashes again because it makes me feel real, healthy and normal again. Having that back is more precious than I realized it would be. But I have to come to terms with the fact my follicle return may be fleeting.

Hopefully, the amount of time I'm able to plan in the future may eventually grow (the longer my cancer stays away). But for now, a few months is the best I can do.

Being stuck with short-term thoughts isn't ideal nor does it make me particularly happy, but it's the only way I can function right now. In one way, it forces me to live and enjoy the here and now, which is exactly what I need to be doing.

Tina