Kind of Fuzzy

I’m feeling kind of fuzzy-headed, probably a combination of insomnia, the steroid come-down and having a good deal to think about at the moment.  One of the things on my mind is this week’s visit to Dr C the oncologist.  My mission to make him laugh continues and I have some ideas on how to achieve it but beyond that I’m wondering whether I should have a list of questions for him now that chemo is through.

The two most obvious questions are:

  • How successful was the treatment?
  • How do we know for sure it was that successful?

The challenge with these questions is that the answers are going to be kind of fuzzy.  Something along the lines of ‘it was the best regime available, you completed it so we assume it was successful. We find out for sure by following you up over the next 5 years.’  I realise that for some people the lack of definitive answers would cause chaos and possibly leave them feeling quite depressed, but no-one can give me absolute answers so kind of fuzzy ones will have to do.

Being naturally unstructured (prone to spontaneity and bouts of randomness) I quite enjoy chaos so the challenge of an amorphous, kind of fuzzy future is exactly that – a challenge to be played flat-out. This feels like it could be an opportunity to act in my own psychological thriller, except the cliff-hanger scene goes on for years, not minutes.  Hitchcock might be proud!   Then again, some of the most wonderful things in life are kind of fuzzy – little chicks, kiwi fruit, dandelion clocks, woolly bear caterpillars and some of our most endearing experiences make us feel kind of fuzzy inside – love, friendship, fealty.

It may not be perfect, precise or predictable but the kind of fuzzy life I live includes more marvels than I ever imagined – a wonderful family, dear friends, my faithful cats… and it’s full of million reasons to be thankful every single day even if the suspense will never be entirely suspended.

art shot

English: Fuzzy caterpillar.

English: Fuzzy caterpillar. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)





Kiwifruit (Photo credit: Broken Piggy Bank)

13 thoughts on “Kind of Fuzzy

  1. Having dealt with life, death and various degrees of disability for nearly forty years, I think that ‘life’ in general could be described as ‘fuzzy.’ The fuzziness will fade in time. Chemobrain will gradually sink into the background and life will go on. In my experience, the ‘survivors’ in this world (of whatever illness they suffer) are those with a positive (and stubborn) attitude. Pick up the ‘feisty’ stick and run with it Tracy. No one could have a more positive attitude than you and that positivity will see you through. Love and {{{hugs}}} for a lasting, brighter future. Silverback xxx


  2. I think you knocked it on the head here. The suspense will never entirely be suspended – so the little & wonderful things are very good to remember, and very good at combating worries. Nevertheless, I hope your treatment was very, very successful. ~ Catherine


  3. Enjoy the fuzz, Tracy, it’s all we got. I like how you turned uncertainty into a cute animals, sweet fruit, and love/friendship/fealty. A quote I picked up today is “Circumstances don’t matter. Only state of being matters.” {{{Hugs}}} Kozo


  4. Right now your peach fuzz and your brain remind you of a truth in life, which is that life is fuzzy. You sound like you are well able to deal with ambiguity, which will continue to serve you well as you continue your healing. And the brain and peach fuzz will go away.


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