"God, grant me a bottle of bear repellent, just in case"

Yesterday was a peach of a day… cold and brilliantly clear; windy. Clouds of leaves rushed down every corridor and swirled around every edge. As the sun sank, the Earth was bathed in the most lovely orange; this under a magnificent, brilliantly blue dish of a sky.

In my weakened physical state, I usually take a nap or two during the day, and having woken yesterday at 5 am, the first of the naps came somewhat early. I don’t know if I had bad dreams, but when I woke, I felt lowly. I felt deeply depressed.

I am not now, nor have I ever been a champion of moods. I have never won a gold medal in strong character or intestinal fortitude. But to collapse into pure, self pitying depression as I did yesterday is not common either. Yes, I have always fought with depression, but it is not common for me to sink into such a profound low as to not see any good at all or feel even a shred of hope and joy.

Sometimes, reality is like a lost object you’ve stopped looking for, suddenly found not looking for it, so that you experience that “Oh, there it is” moment. When your reality includes being a seriously ill cancer patient, that “Oh, there it is” effect is often as weighty as suddenly realizing you have a wild grizzly bear living with you in a one-bed-room efficiency. It can chill the warmest mood, dispose even the widest joy and for me, resides in a domain of fear for which there aren’t words to describe.

Some days, like part of yesterday, the very best I can do is sit in the face of a three handed clock senselessly urging the second hand to move a little faster around its course to happier domains. And just like yesterday, it finally did.

Sometimes it seems as if getting cancer comes with the ability to cope in ways you never thought you could. It is just like having your first child. You could have never imagined that you’d love another human the way you do your children. Getting children comes with the ability to cope and experience things you never imagined you could.

So that, to me, in God’s Universe, every experience He gives to us, He also gives the new ability to manage those experiences. Which isn’t to say we always deploy those abilities in the most productive manner, just that we have the tools we need to get beyond every trial, whether we use them or not.

I must always remember, while I may spend some of my time alone in a room with a clock, desperately awaiting stronger moments, they will always come. Oh, and that any grizzly bear (worth his tooth and nail) in a small room, probably wouldn't be in the mood to eat you anyway.