When I was a kid, I went to a shit school in a shit neighborhood. So whenever the older girls were gonna have a fight, if they were smart, they’d take out their earrings (so the other girl couldn’t rip them out and tear the ears) and get their friend to hold them.
I kind of feel like I’m at that stage with the cancer treatments now. Someone hang on to my earrings, I'm going in...
Tomorrow at 7:30am (because mornings don't suck enough already) I have surgery to place a port into my chest which connects to my big vein (the one that goes to my heart) and then the next day they start my first 4 hour treatment. I've been going through every emotion imaginable over the last days, well... every negative emotion mostly, heh...
I don't want to do this. But I do want to live as long as I can in as healthy a condition as I can. So chemo it is. I guess I do want to do this if that's the only option... but the desire to run is strong. Just leave this existence and hide in the desert for a couple of years until I die, alone and in peace.
But love, there is so much love in my life. I love Joe more every day, and if I feel that way now after we've known each other for so long, imagine how much bigger and more beautiful that feeling could grow to be... Even now, I find myself stunned sometimes by how much love I feel for him. Just stroking his sleeping head has given me so much comfort when I can't sleep (and luckily he's a deep sleeper or it would suck to have your loving partner mooning over you while you finally get some rest! And my brother Sam, who has grown into such a nurturing and kind adult, who astounds me with his ability to calm and care for me, his partner, my parents, and even himself. I want to keep living to keep feeling these marvelous things, I want to keep watching people I love grow and change, even Joe's crazy kids! Isn't that wild, the little nutjobs are such a handful but somehow I've grown to care about them and love them, despite every attempt not to. It is incredible.
Friends have been offering to help and now I'm at the point where I finally know exactly when the chemo will be (every other wednesday), but I want to see what a treatment is like first so Joe and I'll do the first one alone on Wednesday... fingers crossed, and all that stuff grandma used to say. Actually I think she used to spit three times, both of them did in fact... but the english one only made a noise like she did in a very ladylike way, while my american/polish grandma would do it for real, only a tiny bit, but enough so I had a better understanding of the ritual involved.
Do other people think their dead relatives are rooting for them someplace? It certainly comforts me to think about my grandmas, grandpas, and my baby brother all with me right now, sending me strength and love.