This conflicts with my view of my novel-writing schedule, which I normally have a handle on about two calendar years in advance. It conflicts with my travel and convention schedule, which is normally about one to two years out on a rolling basis. It conflicts with my desire to get out in the dating world with an intent to build a new core relationship, a process that certainly takes more than four months, especially given that three of these next four months are going to be consumed in finishing chemotherapy and the difficult early stages of the nearly year-long process of recovering from it.
So how do I find hope when it comes in boxes too small to fit my dreams? What does it mean to be healthy not long enough to do the next thing that wants or needs doing?
I don't know the answers. I won't know them for a while, or maybe ever. I'm very reluctant to dice down my dreams, but you go to life with the hope you have.
I wonder what to do next.