Sometimes it overwhelms me.

The unknown, the possible, the dreaded.

I don’t know where to start.  Or if to start.

I am inert. I wait.  I catch myself thoughtless.

The me I know (and love) would line up the forms, write a to-do list, reply to emails as I get them.  Calmly, collectedly, efficiently, effectively. Not yesterday, somehow not yesterday.  But maybe today?

It is the relentlessness that is hitting me.  The surgery that has seemed so distant, a distant but relentless wave, now seems to be gaining pace.  Rushing towards me.  Crashing towards me.

Will I know this week?  Will it happen this week?  Will I feel better when I know?

I like to know.  Usually.  I still do like to know.  I think.  Yes, I do want to know.  It cannot be worse than this limbo.  Can it?

To quote the good doctor Seuss: My mountain is waiting.  I must get on my way.



  1. I don’t mean to harp.
    I understand the relentlessness and it really does take a toll unless you find a space for some peace.
    It’s so important in so many different ways – not least, in aiding healing.
    Have you looked at some meditation yet?

  2. Just one little thing more.
    I know you are trying to digest so much info at the moment and sorting your way through all kinds of
    different meditations can just be another thing for your poor over-worked brain.
    Could I suggest this one to you?
    It’s only 16 minutes long (a good amount of time to begin with).
    Try to do it every day – it has a cumulative effect.

  3. Marsupial Mum , you have jolted me into action , as inaction is the default path one takes when scrambling for excuses for “too busy” or just plain apathy !
    I am a dentist in Toowoomba who was introduced to your plight by our childrens’ nanny . Your situation has put a bomb under me as far as ensuring our patients ( some 15-20 thousand ! ) have a regular scan ( OPG ) to screen for any irregularity which intra- and extra-orally is not evident . In so doing hopefully such things could be detected as early as possible . Thankyou for your brave , frank and Dr. Seuss-like insight which you are sharing . All the very best to you with your treatments and healing,physically and mentally

  4. Andrew, thank you for reading and commenting. It’s tricky with tumours like ameloblastoma that aren’t easy to spot. I was brushed off the first time by my dentist with an admonition to floss right to the back teeth. I was brushed off the second time by my doctor who thought it was an abcess or blocked saliva duct. But I pursued it and, second time around, my dentist did send me for an OPG / panorex that clearly showed something wrong, even to my untrained eye. Caught a little earlier, perhaps my tumour would not have had 3, 4, maybe even 5 years to destroy my jaw. We still hope it will be benign.

  5. Freefalling, thank you, I don’t mind at all that you followed up. I looked at the link when you first posted it and, yes, I was overwhelmed. Choices can be overwhelming right now, But I downloaded the one you suggested immediately I got your comment. And finally did it today. It’s hard to find quiet time. And even then I think I only managed to hear about 20% of it. I don’t concentrate well at the moment. But I’ll keep trying. So thank you.

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