There is an awkward little trap in feeling better: I can start expecting more of myself before I have properly enjoyed the improvement.
Some of the things I have dealt with since cancer treatment have improved. That matters. I want to feel clearer, more comfortable and more able to get on with my life. I am hardly going to complain when something moves in the right direction.
But I am trying to let an improvement be an improvement, rather than immediately promoting it to a permanent arrangement.
My body has not signed that contract.
The temptation to raise the bar
When something feels easier, it is tempting to use that as the new starting point. If I can manage more, perhaps I should manage more. If I have the concentration to follow an interesting idea, perhaps I should make the most of it and follow several.
There is always plenty available. Studying, learning practical skills, looking after a home. Two spaniels who remain impressively confident that their requirements belong near the top of any list.
The interesting question is when “I can do this” turns into “I ought to do this”.
I want to make use of feeling better. I also want to enjoy it without immediately adding another obligation. Being more comfortable would still be worthwhile if the only thing it gave me was a more comfortable afternoon.
That can be surprisingly easy to forget when I have so many plans.
A good moment can stand on its own
I do not need to squeeze a prediction out of every improvement.
Being able to concentrate on something does not tell me exactly how the next study session will go. Enjoying part of a day does not settle every question about what I can sustain over a week.
It tells me that this part was better. I would like to give that fact a little room before asking it to explain the future.
There is a temptation to wait until something becomes consistent before allowing myself to be pleased about it. As though a good moment only counts once it has passed a reliability test.
I do not want to live entirely in that waiting room either.
If something is easier, I can appreciate it. If it is harder another time, the earlier improvement still happened. Neither experience has to cancel the other.
Enjoyment is not a progress report
Writing publicly about life after cancer brings another question into view: how do I show the enjoyable parts without making the whole thing look tidier than it is?
I want this blog to contain learning, making things and following ideas. Those are real interests. They deserve space without every mention becoming an announcement about my health.
Starting a degree says something about what interests me and what I am trying to build. It does not provide a complete account of how I feel.
The same goes for creative projects. Enthusiasm is visible in something I have made or a new idea. The practical limits are less obvious.
I want room to share something I am pleased about without having to attach my entire medical history to it. Equally, I want to write honestly about a difficulty without seeming to withdraw everything positive I have previously said.
Both are part of the same life.
Leaving a little space around better
Perhaps the most useful thing I can do with an improvement is avoid giving it too many jobs.
It does not have to prove that I am back to my old self. It does not have to justify a busier timetable. It does not have to become the encouraging ending to somebody else’s account of recovery.
I can enjoy feeling a bit better and still make choices that leave room for uncertainty.
That means keeping some space in the plans, remembering that ordinary responsibilities already take effort, and allowing enjoyment to be enough sometimes.
I still want progress. I still have ambitions. I would simply like the better bits of life to arrive without being handed a workload at the door.
A good day is worth having.
For now, I am trying to let it be one.
I’m sharing my own experience of life after cancer. This blog is not medical advice, and my experience cannot tell someone else what their symptoms or recovery mean.