“You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing”–Augustus Waters, THE FAULT IN OUR STARS
Thank you, John Green, for writing this incredible book that made me think and laugh and cry. So many things about THE FAULT IN OUR STARS resonated with me that my thoughts feel scattered into a far off, peculiar constellation.
Ten years out from having cancer, I realize that I have largely been stuck in a post-cancer head space.
Time moves apace, but a part of me is often in that chair watching chemicals drip down the tubing into my vein. It keeps me from the next poem, the next chapter, from loving as deeply as I should.
I, too, do not want to detonate.
Knowing that I might have died, not knowing that I might someday be again in the might die is paralyzing.
I can spread the peanut butter on one side of the bread, smooth the jelly on the other side and slap them together. I can take the wet clothes from the washer and put them in the dryer, but the might, the maybe, the percent and possibility is always there, just one beat behind me.
(Maybe that’s why I run from my car to the house on dark nights? It’s not a physical threat I feel, it’s the fear, as Hazel put it, of “the universe’s need to make and unmake all that is possible.”)
No doubt Hazel Grace could write this post with much more eloquence than I am mustering at this moment.
I am glad, ecstatic, guilt ridden that I survived. Scared, angry, hallelujah hell yes happy and nervous that I survived. When happy I see the shadow of the anvil. When sad I see the sun coming up in the terrible sky and am reminded that the tenacity of my foothold is a mere scratch in the dirt.