Eight Equals... Engorged?
I am a tick.
Gross, right? Well, that's how I feel. Swollen. Engorged.
It's way less funny now.
Look at how cheerful I appear. That's not a lie. I was. Eight down. Only four left. That's two months, y'all. The finish line is almost in sight. I can taste the win.
Okay, maybe we shouldn't start talking about taste. No good will come of it.
That was Monday. It's now Thursday. I'm once more in the valley. There's a difference now, though. Next week I start back to work, teaching acting.
The reality of what this is going to look like is starting to penetrate my (ginormous) noggin.
I'm incredibly blessed in that I love my job. Enormously. I haven't always been blessed to be able to do it consistently, but I have no one to blame for that but myself.
Here's the thing about doing something you love. You don't ever want to half-@$$ it. I know how much energy I typically put into teaching a class that lasts an hour. I'm not sure I have that much energy for the entire day right now. So I'm going to have to figure some stuff out. I won't give my students less; that's not really an option in my book. I don't have as much of me to go around at the moment. The numbers don't add up so well at a cursory glance. So what's that going to look like?
I guess I'll find out.
I am hopeful, though. Teaching tends to fill me up, rather than wipe me out. I've missed teaching over the summer. I love watching artists develop their individual Voices (yes, that capital letter is intentional). It's invigorating.
Anyhoo. Back to the whole engorged, swollen, turgid thing. Man, talk about some uncomfortable sounding words. I have some others, if you're interested: ointment, discharge, mucus, supple, and moist.
My head is too big. My eyes are too big. My feet are slabs of horribly distended meat, the toes overstuffed sausages. My fingers are too grotesque for me to easily type. Everything is just too ****ing huge.
Yes. Everything.
Again, remember the connotative part. Painful. Fat feet? Not really a problem until it starts hurting. Overlarge eyeballs? More of an issue for the person looking at me, really, until it starts hurting. Ham-fisted? Definitely more of a "you" problem, except for the fact that it's hurting.
If you're tired of listening to me b!tch and moan, I want you to know something. I'm tired of hearing myself, too. I write, then read what I've written and think, "Who would want to read that?"
So if you check out, I get it. No offense taken; I promise.
But if you happen to be going through this, or know someone that might be, it's possible that something I write here might help you to feel less alone and insane or more informed and empathetic. Either way, it's a good thing.
And ultimately, my eyes being swollen will just make them "pop" more. Right?
Oh, and here are my chemo socks for this treatment. Please enjoy!
-----------------
Forthcoming--a roundtable on the benefits and downfalls of essential oils administered as anal suppositories.
Next post.
 |
| Man, I loved that cartoon. And yes, I was totally too old to watch it. Fight me. |
No, not that kind of tick. This kind.
 |
| That's a little more like it. |
Gross, right? Well, that's how I feel. Swollen. Engorged.
Turgid.
That brings back memories of myself as a young teen, surrounded by my group of friends, all of us giggling because someone said "turgid member."
 |
| Like that, but WAY more masculine, obvi. |
It's way less funny now.
The dictionary definition of turgid is "swollen and distended." I feel like there's a connotative part there that's missing.
Painful.
Here's me on the day of my eighth treatment.
 |
| Wait. No H8. That's not what this is about. |
Look at how cheerful I appear. That's not a lie. I was. Eight down. Only four left. That's two months, y'all. The finish line is almost in sight. I can taste the win.
Okay, maybe we shouldn't start talking about taste. No good will come of it.
That was Monday. It's now Thursday. I'm once more in the valley. There's a difference now, though. Next week I start back to work, teaching acting.
 |
| Okay, maybe not WORK work. I mean, we do play a lot of games. |
The reality of what this is going to look like is starting to penetrate my (ginormous) noggin.
I'm incredibly blessed in that I love my job. Enormously. I haven't always been blessed to be able to do it consistently, but I have no one to blame for that but myself.
Here's the thing about doing something you love. You don't ever want to half-@$$ it. I know how much energy I typically put into teaching a class that lasts an hour. I'm not sure I have that much energy for the entire day right now. So I'm going to have to figure some stuff out. I won't give my students less; that's not really an option in my book. I don't have as much of me to go around at the moment. The numbers don't add up so well at a cursory glance. So what's that going to look like?
I guess I'll find out.
I am hopeful, though. Teaching tends to fill me up, rather than wipe me out. I've missed teaching over the summer. I love watching artists develop their individual Voices (yes, that capital letter is intentional). It's invigorating.
Anyhoo. Back to the whole engorged, swollen, turgid thing. Man, talk about some uncomfortable sounding words. I have some others, if you're interested: ointment, discharge, mucus, supple, and moist.
 |
| Dr. Horrible, y'all. It's just so worthwhile. |
My head is too big. My eyes are too big. My feet are slabs of horribly distended meat, the toes overstuffed sausages. My fingers are too grotesque for me to easily type. Everything is just too ****ing huge.
Yes. Everything.
 |
| It's just so much classier in this format. |
Again, remember the connotative part. Painful. Fat feet? Not really a problem until it starts hurting. Overlarge eyeballs? More of an issue for the person looking at me, really, until it starts hurting. Ham-fisted? Definitely more of a "you" problem, except for the fact that it's hurting.
If you're tired of listening to me b!tch and moan, I want you to know something. I'm tired of hearing myself, too. I write, then read what I've written and think, "Who would want to read that?"
So if you check out, I get it. No offense taken; I promise.
But if you happen to be going through this, or know someone that might be, it's possible that something I write here might help you to feel less alone and insane or more informed and empathetic. Either way, it's a good thing.
And ultimately, my eyes being swollen will just make them "pop" more. Right?
 |
| I'm too sexy for my skull. Too sexy for my skull... |
Oh, and here are my chemo socks for this treatment. Please enjoy!
 |
| SASQUATCH! |
Forthcoming--a roundtable on the benefits and downfalls of essential oils administered as anal suppositories.
Next post.
I think you will find that teaching, like the directing you did recently, is going to be an energy ADD for you, not an energy drain. The trick is going to be making adjustments for your current circumstances so that you don't over-do things and get yourself into a jam. You can't do it like you did it before. You will have to find ways to physically move less, carry less, take more breaks, etc. I would come clean with your students in the very first class. "I have cancer right now, so it's going to change the way I do things." Then ask for help. Have someone carry your stuff. Sit instead of stand as much as possible. etc.
ReplyDeleteIf you are paying attention I think you will find that there are students enrolled in your class this term who are there to learn acting from you, sure, but they are also there specifically because they are uniquely prepared, able and willing to render service to you in this time of need. It is part of their life purpose to render this service to you, and it is part of your life purpose to receive this service and to impart your acting wisdom and knowledge to them. This class is going to be one of the best you've ever had. When you look back on it, you will realize it was because you were forced to do things differently. You will find a way to succeed. I'm sure of it.