Since my diagnosis just a few days ago, I have carried on as usual.  I suspect most people in similar circumstances do the same.  I think my strategy has been the same strategy serial killers employ and that is compartmentalized thinking. 

This cancer has taken on the persona of the grim reaper.  For the most part, I have pushed him into a tiny  box, and pushed the box into a tiny corner of my tiny mind.  While I don’t make eye contact with the  scythe-wielding ghoul, I do keep an eye on the box because I feel like I can keep him in his box with hyper-vigilance.  

But occasionally, the chores of the day distract me and for a moment I forget that  death has begun sniffing around the corners of my life, circling in the water.  And in those moments, the hooded skeleton explodes out of his tiny box and looms large.

In those moments, the beast wins and I shudder, waiting until I am able to gather my wits and stare him back into his tiny box, in a tiny corner of my tiny, cowering mind.