They found another tumor. This time hit me very hard. I’d begun to hope that maybe I’d outlive this despite them saying it will kill me someday. And now, here’s this reminder.
I’ve been battling cancer and anger lately. I find myself getting upset with little comments like “but you don’t look sick” or ”we’re all terminal.” I know people mean well, but sometimes these particular words feel paltry, like they diminish and invalidate how hard I’m trying to fight. I know I’m not really upset with people (they truly are trying to help). And I don’t look sick until someone sees me walk. In fact, now that my hair has grown back, I look normal. And the “we’re all terminal comment”: I’ve heard this almost every day for the past month. Yes, we are all dying. But most people aren’t buckled into a front-row seat of debilitating bone pain, constant nausea, the unavoidable fact that their life will be cut way too short—and the rest of it will be a battle JUST TO STAY ALIVE. Saying “we’re all terminal” invalidates what terminal patients like me are actually experiencing.
But I’m not really upset with people. I’m focusing on that because the other issues are simply too hard to face… like how I’m tired of this horrendous disease. I’m tired of waking up with godforsaken headaches, a throbbing neck, a back that feels riddled with infection. I’m tired of how hard it can be to walk short distances. How a hot bath is the only thing that eases the pain on some days. And I’m exhausted from moments like this when I feel like I’m not strong enough—like I’m a burden to everyone I know because something about me is causing them pain. Something. So. Out. Of my control.
Of course, these feelings pass. I pull on my big-girl panties and “buck up.” So, today I can be glad because I went and spent $30 whole dollars at Victoria Secret (this is a fortune in my eyes). AND, Mike didn’t even say anything about this—or the fancy mocha I boasted when I got home—since he felt so bad about the new tumor. “Hey, honey, I went on a shopping spree, BUT I have a new tumor.” *Crying my eyes out.* Cancer does help you get away with sh*t.
I can be grateful for the dear friend who let me stay at her house (I’ll have to post more about her later). Thank, God, for my friends and mother-in-law who’ve let me stay at their homes this last year as things have seemed even more exhausting.
I’m grateful for the lessons I’m learning. But I think I’d like to unenroll from this class 🤣😒
And I’m grateful that I got new shocking underwear to show-off during radiation—the same session I said I’d never be strong enough to do again. (If I have to do radiation, at least I can shock the hell out of the techs! That’s all I have now, the motivation to make waves.)
I’m still trying to get things in perspective so I can fight some more and move on. Let’s do this! 🤣😭🤷♀️
I. Am. The. Luckiest? Yep. Yep, I am.
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