mixed emotions

i've had lou reed's "perfect day" stuck in my head all day...

...more specifically, the scene in trainspotting that it plays over. the scene sees our hero, mark renton, looking for "one fucking hit" and finding it in the desolate apartment of his dealer. the hit, predictably, brings more bad than good and mark's catatonic, eventual trip to the emergency room is soundtracked to the soothing sounds of the monotone reed. as the audience easily soaks in the irony of the lyrics, we are left to wonder if reed's alleged ode to heroin is meant to frame the druggie's experience as a baby step toward enlightenment and away from his addiction or quite verily what our protagonist was searching for. 

the angle of today's post has shifted a little in the wake of yesterday's storms. while not nearly as extensive or widespread and the fatalities far fewer, the tornado that ripped through tarrant/center point/clay/trussville hit closer to my literal and proverbial home than did the tragic and horrifying storms of last april. the sheer number of fatalities from 8 months ago is still terrifying, but the fact of my matter was that i knew very few, if any, of those that were directly impacted by the storm. the same could not be said yesterday morning. the vast majority of my friends either had some degree of damage on their property or were less than a stone's throw from where the tornado touched down. facebook, over 36 hours later, is still haunting to pull up. what new picture or video will bring us in closer touch with how quickly things and life can be taken away and crumbled into perspective and life lessons?

in turn, my family and i were one of the many "lucky ones", having only lost power for half an hour and cable for half a day, far smaller inconveniences compared to those whose houses are now shells of their former selves if they are even standing at all. i imagine the damage sustained by fellow church members, alone, could keep our congregation busy for weeks. stretch that out to include immediate families and friends, it could be months. 

before yesterday morning, i thought of today's post being one loathsome in self-pity. for months now, i've kept most of my fears to myself, because, surely, every one around me has got to be sick of my baby-ass whining about having had cancer. but the fears remained. after my scan last january, i let myself not worry about peeing blood for two or three months. around the beginning of summer, i started again talking myself into the idea of something growing inside me. by fall, i was sure of it. by today, you couldn't have convinced me otherwise. 

i said all the right things. 

"i don't have any reason to think anything is wrong." 

"i don't believe they'll find anything new or problematic." 

"why would they? they always told me mine was the best kind of cancer if you had to have it." (really, how ridiculous does that sound, even it turns out to be statistically accurate???)

"i am going to be just fine. of course i am." 

i said all the right things even if i didn't believe any of it. 

and so i've been imagining myself in my own version of the trainspotting overdose scene. was mark renton kevin o'kelley looking for that one last hit yet another scan (really, i've wished i could have one every day for the last six months) as a baby step towards my own personal enlightenment or was i secretly hoping that something would turn up so i could prove everyone that offered me comfort wrong or so all of my worrying wouldn't have been for naught. 

honestly, i don't know. 

i'd like to tell you without a shadow of a doubt that my worries were the manifestation of the figurative devil on one shoulder whispering nightmarish somethings into my ear easily shoo-ed away by the angel on the other side constantly reminding me how wonderful my life is. 

some days it was that simple. some days, it's not. 

and then the tornado ripped through my community, ripping me away from myself and my fears long enough to make my own self-pity look self-pathetic. 

i didn't write before my scan, because writing about me seemed pointless. 

i chose to write after, because good news is easier to digest than the complexities of paralyzing anxiety. 

i write today because today is a huge day for me, my unofficial new year's day. 

i am pained today because 2012 is already a year to forget for many that will be picking up the literal pieces of their homes for days, weeks, and months. 

cancer and her collateral damage is, was, and will always be a motherfucker. 

so, too, is life itself. here one minute, gone the next. a collection of things that can surely be swept away while we are sleeping.

i saw inside my body today. i saw a healthy kidney and other organs. i saw that i don't have to worry about peeing blood tonight, tomorrow, or the next many days. that's a nice thing. 

i saw the heart of my community yesterday and today, too. humans, untouched by the storm, caring for humans punched by it. 

tomorrow i move on with my body and my home intact and ready to roll. 

i pray for the motivation to help those that aren't so sure tonight because tornadoes are, were, and will always be motherfuckers. 

the final scene of trainspotting sees mark renton stealing from his friends one final time, walking towards the cameras with a wickedly narcissistic grin breaking across his face like a sunrise...

"...the truth is that i am bad person. but that's gonna change - i'm going to change....now i am cleaning up and i'm moving on, going straight and choosing life. i'm looking forward to it already. i'm gonna be just like you. the job, the family, the fucking big television. the washing machine, the car, the compact disc, the electric tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisure wear, luggage, three piece suit, diy, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing gutters, getting by, looking ahead, the day you die."

i've got a lot of mark renton in me. fatalist. masochist. narcissist. every man. no man. 

i hope i've got a lot of kevin o'kelley in me, too, whatever that ends up meaning to my girls, my community, and the world around me. 

perspective is, was, and always will be a motherfucker. 

i've had a proper dose of it the last couple of days. 

i've also realized reasons to celebrate random catchings of breaks. 

happy new year.