sometimes you crawl back to things you once played with looked at dabbled in because you need that kind of comfort, that reminder of when things were easier, that familiarity that allows you to clear your head and calm your breathing.
sheets feel softer again
the rhythm of your heart and your breath dies down
the throbbing behind your eye that emerges every day sometimes more than once - that dies down too, and you forget to hope for cancer, you forget to want it to grow
the way forward is sometimes the way back - at least for the time being
get your fingers to stop shaking and then set off forward again