In the Quiet
I’ve been nestled in my quiet, lately. Not in a hopelessly dark sort of way. What I feel is quiet acceptance that these moments, right now, are reality.
Cancer fucking sucks. That’s a fact.
There’s a 26 page booklet sitting on my kitchen table detailing the risks and treatment of the clinical trials my Dad will be participating in for his pancreatic and liver cancers. I haven’t read the booklet. I look at it, sitting on my kitchen table, and half-heartedly think to myself “I should probably read that”. But I don’t. I
I know why my Dad gave it to me. We’re similar that way. Usually, I’m eager to read about the details of a subject; picking out all the fascinating facts. The words in that 26 page document, laying to the left of me as I type, aren’t calling to me. There’s nothing in that document I don’t know; that my family hasn’t lived through already.
I don’t need to understand cancer.