After four years (these humble offerings began on September 15, 2017), which translates into roughly over 200 weekly writings (I began posting three times a week but quickly was unable to sustain that torrid typing pace) - it is understandable that I could be facing a dry spell of insights or inspiration to share. In keeping with the spirit of this ‘conversation’ (monologue, actually), I strive to maintain some connection to my cancer journey and the various twists and turns in the road (admittedly oft times a bit tangential). And purposely avoiding the low-hanging fruit yet highly charged subjects of politics or religion, I limit myself to just that - myself; which can be a bit constraining at times.
At first I thought I'd challenge myself to make a connection between my life with the Big C and the comedic musings of “The Big Bang Theory” which I hear murmuring in the next room behind my closed office door - beckoning me to come hither; taunting me with its laugh track and arid dry Jim Parsons deliveries. But those re-run depths were not to be plumbed for my needs.
Then I contemplated possibly working up a treatise around the two new loves of my life - my amazing granddaughters. This past Saturday was National Daughters Day (which I celebrated proudly in honor of my four amazing women), so why not a heartfelt tribute to the offspring of my offspring, and how inspirational they ALL are in my conquering of my daily routine and regimen. But that felt a bit too exploitative (they're babies after all) and I should save those cards for when they are older and contributing actual cute or poignant insights into my life as their Cancer Poppa. Besides, no point rushing them into this whole social media thing.
I even pondered a seasonal soliloquy on the beauty of Fall and some kind of analogous connection to the changing of the seasons and the evolution of my life as a cancer survivor; how much I love the Fall, etc. But then, as I have been told, "Everybody loves the Fall" so that seemed trite and trivial - and admittedly a bit of a stretch even beyond my propensity for prosaic pomposity.
Alas, then I looked up at the blinking cursor on the screen before me and much to my delight, noticed that this rambling Rosen rhetoric had somehow reached the rough range of my others - so I'm calling it a night and getting on with my so called cancer life. Sorry folks, they can't all be gems, or in this case not even cubic zirconia. But I do appreciate your faithful following, and will work harder to do better next time. Heck, no Sergey Bubka am I - but the bar can't get much lower.
