I feel that I must apologize for the last entry made. I found myself distracted by other tasks, shiny things, illusory greener grass - all the normal distractions I must better learn to push away in the hope that I might stay better focused on where I am.
Why do I feel that I must apologize?
Well, first and foremost, I feel that way about everything. My first, strongest impulse about anything is to apologize for it. This is, I believe, driven by the fact that it is my failt. My fault -> I must apologize for it.
Everything is my fault. So, I must apologize for everything.
Why is everything my fault? Think about this: I have cancer. By any sane standard, this is not a good thing. It is, therefore, a bad thing.
Nothing exists in this universe without being determined to fit in, somehow. Unless you believe that we are confronted with a mass chaos of disordered confusion every moment, whcih hardly seems likely. Rather, it would seem to be more accurate to subscribe to the fact that everything is determined.
So, somehow, it was determined that I would have this cancer that will (most likely) cause me great suffering and pain before it kills me; but kill me it will. My body and my mind are broken by the cancer. It is a cancer that is terminal; the only cure, a stem cell transplant, has a high failure rate; I do not qualify (nor do I want) this treatment for a variety of reasons.
The bottom line, then: I have a terminal cancer. When I was first diagnosed, I was give statistical odds of living another 2-3 years, based upon my overall health, my genetics, and the intensity of the disease.
That was at the end of July, 2015.
Hello, sunshine. It was good to see you. I'll be passing by any day now, I trust I haven't abused you too badly.
This determination to give me something: I was given something that is not good. So, I was given something bad.
You might look upon this as an active punishment for something I did. You might instead feel that it is more just bad luck. Whatever you call it, however you feel about it, the fact remains: it has been determined that my role in the ordered universe is to get the snot beaten out of me by disease. I am going to be put through the wringer a few times before my death.
Goodbye, snot. I think that the beating is almost over, and that you have been washed down various holes that I have encountered in this tour.
Whether you believe in a supreme being (I do not) or simply a well-ordered universe, I am being punished by something. I am being made to suffer.
[On a side note: whoever is doing this, you are doing a fine job. My kudos to your handiwork.]
I am being punished, I hope, for a reason. This reason could be any action I took, or any period of inaction in which I did nothing.
In any event, I had best apologize in case this is the thing I did which was my fault.
I'm sorry. That's just the way it is with this cancer. Everything about me is broken. I'm going to die from this cancer; whether directly from the cancer itself, or as I almost did a year ago, from the organic damage caused as a mere side effect, a mere symptom, of the cancer.
I apologize quite frequently these days. I'm sorry for that, too. It is as though I have crossed a line, a fault line if you like, and fault, flaws, and apologies mean something different to me now than they did before I stepped over that line.
I know, I know. None of this is my fault. None of this can be viewed as punishment. I am not being punished; sometimes, bad things just happen to good people.
I'm sorry, then, that I've offended you.
I'll shut my stupid pie-hole now.
Note: I hope that I've conveyed one large point in this entry, namely that this cancer (and most likely other terminal cancers) put the patient into an apologetic, blameful, and depressed mode. The patient finds him or herself taking blame, apologizing frequently and freely, and hating their body and mind. I will expand on this in the next entry.