It’s the first thorough check after I got surgery. So basically, I need to get my blood multiple tested, and my body, from head to toe, ultrasound and CT scanned. Of course, like always, it takes time and a lot of waiting. And like always, waiting is a bitch. 

Theoretically, the odds of relapse are not high, but you never know when it comes to cancel. I tried not to be paranoid, but it’s not that easy.

Time takes a toll on your body, with or without the disease. After a certain age, you start to become conscious of the burden of your body. You start feel the shape of your insomniac heart beating wildly in your chest for a moment and resume its ordinary pace again. The memories slip away faster, the fatigue lasts longer. Arm throbs, head hurts, vision blurs. None of these don’t necessarily have to do with the cancer, however, if you were diagnosed with one, everything is automatically linked to it, whether you want it or not.

You start to be paranoid, troubled with endless “what-ifs”. This thing is endless and enormous, with tentacles that creeps, curls, and snarls.

So yesterday, after back from the hospital and waiting for my sentences,  I found it hard to concentrate on anything routine. I decided to give myself a break, collapsing in sofa and feasting with some TV shows.

I didn’t feel better. So I went for a running. Running has become my remedy for almost everything, the fatigue, the paranoid, the pains, the depressions. It can’t fix me, but it does lift some weights off me.

It’s kind of like a mental hypnosis. I’m a bird struggling frantically under the claws of death. But as long as I was able to run, I still got the chance to break free.