Here we go again

I wake from a dream. Essentially, a dream of, Here we go again. 

I realise, yes, I have been diagnosed with terminal cancer. My first impulse is  is to -- rush out and tell everyone! Immediately.

Specifically, this time: a small group of friends and rellies hear from me (and Deb) only once each year, via my annual Christmas Letter. Christmas 2024 is, slowly, approaching. Will there be time for me to write a letter?

I am running a mental finger down that list of names. Thinking. How shall I tell this person that I am seriously sick? What about this person?

I feel the urge to tell them... now... just in case Christmas is too late...

Ar least, that is my conscious thinking. Pretending that my impulse is for the benefit of others...

The dream makes me think: My urge is really... to tell others, to spread the news... to lighten my own load.

Well, blow it: that's what this blog is for.

To allow me to get things, good and bad, off my chest. In my own style. No pausing for effect. No wondering about impact on others. Just write... post... feel clearer, better... then get on with *my* own life. (Okay, and without needing to disturb Deb, all the time:-)

Some people get news as and when it happens. That is friendly gossip, keeping it touch. Immediate family, probably, want to know immediately. They feel immediate concern and want or are are happy to be... close within a circle of immediate concern.

 The Christmas letter list:

Yes, do want to pass on the latest news. There's one friend, fell of the list. I believed he was dead... till he came through his own difficult time... and provided his own, years later, Christmas news. That lack of news can be ... awkward, not pleasant.

I'm running my finger down the list again.

Yes, some people do need to know but not immediately. Need to know in the general course of things. As in, hey, here's some news, guess what's happening over at our place. Friendly gossip. Keeping in touch with friends. No great rush.

Because yes it's,  Here we go again.

Guess what. I have cancer. It's terminal. There is no schedule, only guesses (and hope). I'll take the treatment. Go through ups and downs. Feel good, feel bad.

Enjoy myself. Enjoy this analysis of myself!

 All much the same as for the last seven years or, possibly, the same as my last 72 years.

And I'll write, send, the 2024 Christmas letter at its expected time. With whatever annual news there is.

Yes, there will be few pre-christmas emails. Gossip, news, thinking of you... that sort of thing. ( Well, and trying to not cause people to choke on their weeties!

My immediate urge to "share" is really an urge to unburden.

And that is why I blog.

My dreaming subconscious really does understand me.

===

This post is somewhat fake. I finish and realise, I'm making a deliberate attempt to, not soften but... not shock. Some of that is for my blog reader.

But 99% is still for me. In this post, just in this post, honest, I deliberately avoid blunt shock. 

In part in sympathy to the sensitive reader.

Mainly, though-- for me.

I think, I type, I think again.

Is that really how I feel? Avoiding shock. To others... oh... and to myself.

Yep, that feels right. Good.

Blog working well.

And now...

Back to sleep. Feeling fine.

Perchance to dream...

half blind. half deaf. dying of cancer.
so what?
notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com :-)

Dr Nick Lethbridge
Consulting Dexitroboper