It’s early September, the beginning of the final quarter of the year, and I’m looking at where I am in accomplishing my goals.
This year’s goals were pretty much the same as last year’s: Finish my novel. Finish renovations on our 1860s home. Complete a few side projects like faux graining a cabinet or putting a quilt applique on some threadbare bedding. I admit, I know nothing about the last two, which means there’s a learning curve involved that’s slowing me down. Truth is, there’s a learning curve to all of this.
My inbox is filled with advice, templates to download, steps to take to move me forward. Everyday I take time to read those emails or fill out the forms, put a plan together. For a week or two I even put the time into acquiring the habits I need – whether it’s blogging or spending a half hour writing 500 words in my novel or making dinner at home every night for a week with fresh vegetables from my garden. Then I’m all high-fiving myself over finally getting through the mire and moving on with my life.
Until…I get to my monthly oncologist’s appointment. And then, my life gets derailed. January was “Let’s look under the hood.” February was scans, March results, April why don’t we try something new, May was getting health insurance approval, June dawned a day of promise as my number shot down, pain shot up with the new drug. July was managing side effects and trying a lower dosage, August was the reality that July’s strategy didn’t work so we’re back up to a higher dosage and looking for new alternatives, like clinical trials. And here I am in September wondering where the year went and why I haven’t accomplished anything.
To be fair, I have accomplished some things. I did run a half-marathon with neighbors who became better friends in April. I did a triathlon in June and several 5K runs with a new group of friends.
Another good friend reminds me that I’ve continued to work on my novel, interviewed several famous people for stories I got paid to write, kept up with friends, have launched a campaign to run for borough council, researched cancer treatments and signed up for a conference to educate myself about clinical trials. I’ve mentored kids who live on my street. Volunteered to help judge a baking contest so I could write about it in my novel. I’m taking an online college course on doping, as the issue is a prominent theme in my book.
Still, I have a pile of magazines beside my bed that I can’t seem to get to read. And while I’ve had a lot of great lunches with friends who have helped me craft a plan or make a connection to move me closer to my goals, I still don’t feel like I’m making any progress.
So as I sit down to figure out how I’m going to accomplish in the remaining three months of the year what I couldn’t seem to do in the past nine months, I also ask myself how do I live alongside this disease and stop it from running my life as I’ve let it? How do I send it to the corner for a timeout so peace can reign in my classroom for the remainder of this period? And when will I be done with this lesson so I can move on?
