In Pittsburgh and the surrounding vicinity, there are many neighborhoods to choose from. My family recently moved from the South Hills to an area east of the city. There are many good things about this location, but the biggest baddest thing is fighting the traffic at the Squirrel Hill tunnels every morning and evening. Many writers before me have waxed philosophical about the lack of explanation of the origin of this nearly always present traffic – there is never an accident, roadblock or lane closure. Just a strange phenomenon of people slowing down, quite abruptly, as if the tunnel has in some way startled them, as if there are not actual signs not only alerting us to their presence but actually instructing us to maintain our speed. The part that really get me is that this happens each day during rush hour. We must assume that the vast majority of these travelers embark on this westward journey regularly. And still the tunnel scares them, and still they slow, and make us all late.
What does this have to do with cancer? Not much, except that I am finding it stresses me out less. When you get such a diagnosis, things become clear that were once less defined. Being late is bad, but not, like catastrophically bad. Sitting in traffic stinks, but compared to injections, blood draws, nausea and endless copays – meh. Turn up the tunes and be glad you’re not in a CT scan machine, I say.
Additionally, I’m in this traffic (no, not RIGHT now…) because I am going to work. I am going to work because I feel good enough to work. I get to make the choice to go to work or not. I could be a lot sicker.
So, instead, I’ll be grateful to drive a little slower through the hills and valleys of this beautiful place where we live and appreciate the fall foliage. Unless you cut me off, ya jagoff!