The Rest of Me · Life after cancer

My Brain Has Plans. My Body Has Reservations.

By Vicki

An open blank planner and pencil on a wooden table beside a ceramic mug in warm window light.
AI-generated illustrative image.

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An enthusiastic planning department

My brain is very good at identifying things we could do.

A university degree? Interesting. Floristry? Lovely. Welding? Absolutely. Building projects, getting outdoors and learning something else along the way? Apparently there is room for all of it.

My body would like to see the proposed timetable before agreeing to any of these commitments.

That disagreement is a fairly accurate description of life at the moment. The interest is there. The willingness is there. The practical capacity varies.

The cost of an ordinary day

When I am thinking about what to do, the appealing part tends to get my attention first. The interesting class. The new idea. The satisfaction of finishing something.

But an activity also has less interesting parts: getting ready, getting there if it is in person, standing or sitting comfortably, concentrating, and still having the rest of the day to deal with afterwards.

Physical discomfort makes those details harder to ignore. A knee problem affecting how I walk has also brought hip and lower-back pain into the conversation. Things that look quite small on paper can take up a substantial amount of a day.

The dogs, understandably, have not accepted that attending a class counts as feeding them.

Enthusiasm isn’t a reliable measure of capacity

This is the bit I find especially irritating. Feeling excited about something can make it easy to assume I will be able to carry it through exactly as imagined.

I like learning. I can become thoroughly absorbed in a question. I enjoy following the connection between one idea and another. None of that automatically tells me how comfortable or energetic I will feel later.

I am learning to give the practical side a proper say before the enthusiastic side books the entire week. If you prefer putting plans on paper, Oxford Campus pastel A4 lined notebooks (Ad) are one option for keeping ideas and the week’s practical arrangements together.

That does not come naturally. I would much prefer to discover that having an excellent idea generates its own supply of energy. So far, the evidence is disappointing.

Watercolour of an empty wooden bench surrounded by lavender, flowering shrubs and stone paving.
AI-generated illustrative image.

Making room without giving up everything

I do not want a life consisting entirely of managing symptoms. The things I enjoy are part of why I want to feel better in the first place.

The challenge is choosing a version of a plan that fits. Sometimes that means doing less of it. Sometimes it means leaving more space around it. Sometimes an interesting idea has to remain an idea for a while.

I am still working out that balance. There will probably be occasions when I get it wrong. There will also be occasions when something works better than expected.

I want to notice both, rather than using every change of plan as evidence that I cannot do anything.

There are plenty of things I want to do with my life. I just need the planning department and the body to communicate a little earlier in the process.

Preferably before the planning department enrols us on something else.

I’m sharing my own experience. This blog is not medical advice.

Part of The Rest of Me: an honest account of life after cancer, learning and rebuilding. This blog shares personal experience and is not medical advice.

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