Note about this post: I wrote it at 5am after waking up thinking about how to make delicious red lentils AGAIN... I had my little am cooking project, but blessedly just managed to take a 2 hour nap. That makes 7 hours in one day already.... OK: here's the crazy.
Friends, I am going crazy. I think I’m about to lose it. The Predisone is over, my hair is finally coming out for real (goodbye soft buzz, hello shiny Q ball), and I have Cancer. This is hard. Even when it’s all good news and Green Energy Bubbles and Things Working Out… I have this marathon I have to run. And I’m going to mix terrible metaphors like crazy and tell you that I know I ran the first part like a champion because I was in good shape and I had good genes, but I’m still scared and exhausted when I look at the next 20 miles. (Mile 6: arbitrary)
It’s been an insane few weeks and I knew at one point I was going to have to stop my warm up run, skirting along the Edge of the Lake of Objectification (oh, Cancer: you affect all of us! How interesting you are!) and I’ve definitely donned the crazy pants for a sprint or two (freak out!) but on my little journey here, I feel like I’m getting closer and closer to the door (run, path, CP, door, pick a metaphor!) marked “Jessie’s Cancer, come on in…” It’s cool, I call Crazy Pants Card (and I win, right LYLAR?) and at some point in the next 72 hours I hope I can open the door and have a meltdown in the hallway because I have a premonition that’s the next step. I feel it building in a gross, gross, yucky, melt-y insides way.
I like to think about things like Cancer and Health and Infirmary and what they Mean. I’m a big fan of the word “paradigm.” All of these things have been helping me tremendously in my effort to find context for a lot of my experiences. When the personal gets to be too much, they’ve helped me not think about me and think about how other people could possibly be feeling in relation to me. Notice: OVER.
The other afternoon on the phone I had this breakthrough with my sister. I don’t care how she feels. I also don’t care how my mom feels. I just can’t anymore. And it’s OK to blog this because I told Sarah that and she was the person who gave me the A-OK to say out loud and to feel it. I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYONE BUT ME RIGHT NOW. Harry Potter-style, is this the password to get in my stupid metaphorical cancer door?
I mean, obviously I still have other shit going on and none of that is changing, but it’s 5 am and I think I just got about 5 hours of sleep (! Ambian+Red Wine) and I’m in the mood to talk about Being Sick instead of how I’m actually OK (it’s OK everyone! I’m OK!) I’m in the mood to entertain all the things that scare me about what’s going on.
Relapse: cancer forever. My body makes bad cells.
Chemo Brain: who am I if I am not quick witted? Don’t answer: fragile ego
Being Ugly: is wearing on me, I am getting fatter. I have zits on my chin. My soft hair has 5 hours left in existence.
Embracing the selfish: I already find myself a trial. I spend so much of my time considering how to be a good friend and I think that’s why I’m lucky to have such good friends. I think I’m about to be a Bad Friend. Blah, blah.
Secret-style (for those who are new to my blog I think the Secret is bullshit, but I like to do gratitudes anyway), I'd be remiss not let you know that I'm still grateful and all that, I just am wondering if that's what's standing between me and what feels like a looming and necessary mental breakdown sometime this weekend. I mean, I just HAVEN'T SLEPT IN LIKE WEEKS and it's MAKING ME CRAZY.
3 years ago