I've been absent from this space

because I have a bad case of Chemo Brain. I'm forgetful of everything. I've resorted to making lists and then I forget to review those lists. I save emails and then I forget to reply to those emails. I walk upstairs with the intention of grabbing a specific item, but I become distracted and do something else entirely. It's like my brain sits on a dusty shelf of some mad scientist's laboratory, pickled in a chemical brine. Which, in fact, it is.

Writing is difficult, but I don't mind that I'm shutting down. Like a toddler, I meander aimlessly yet happy. There is only the present moment. I see something and if it pleases me, I pick it up. If not, I walk on by. I forget most planned tasks until, in the moment, I remember what I need to do--and then only if it appeals to me. I am shutting down. On the rare occasions that I have my wits, this decline scares me. Most of the time it doesn't. I'm very content.

My bad days are still rough. When I begin to feel the descent into the tunnel, my initial thought is always, Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, I'm fading, I'm fading. Out of nowhere, a strong, heavy hand pushes my head down, forcing me to sniff the ground like a puppy that accidentally peed on the rug. It's difficult to stand up straight. I'm ground meat being stuffed into a sausage casing. And so I crawl into bed and wait for it to pass.

I'm in the tunnel right now. Writing this blog post is a welcomed distraction. While the whole world dances on the balcony and swings from the chandeliers, I need to lay on the dank floor in the boiler room with the rat droppings and dead cockroaches. Just for another day. I'll reemerge. Like I always do.