Monday, August 23, 2010

This osne is for the guys

Dear Guys:

I know much you loved me, but didn't say, but, I'm dying, so I'm afraid it's too late. There are times when I am sorry I let you occupy a space in my heart, my head, or any other place,when I was evidently just a joke to you, or at best, a charity case.
Some girls just had to brush their hair to get your attention. It will always amaze me how I brushed my hair, and my teeth, and even lost weight for you, and you didn't notice. I'm not sure I blame you. I certainly don't stand up to a side-by-side taste test--meaning I look horrible compared to just about anybody, especially now that I'm dying.Even my husband would prefer not to look at me.

So thanks guys for showing me what true love is and contributing to my self esteem.

Love, Your little joke,


Sunday, August 22, 2010

The Mask/Face Condom

Three more radiation treatments, and then I am done quite literally, I can't bake anymore. Based on my personal experience, wearing the mask has been the most unpleasant part of radiation. Although it has holes, I find it hard to breathe with it on. It is tight, so my head doesn't move. I will not miss it, but want to give it a proper send-off. Here are some of my ideas:
  • explode it mythbusters style
  • drive over it
  • take it on the road in a comedy act
  • use it as a Halloween costume (The Fly)
  • use it as a pasta strainer
I'll think of more...Dear readers, feel free add your own ideas.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

I wish

I wish I could correct what I've done wrong.
I wish I didn't let opportunities pass me by.
I wish it wasn't too late.
I wish people didn't hate.

I wish I could read minds.
I wish I knew the truth.
I wish I didn't believe the lies.
but what else can I do.

I wish we didn't have to say goodbye
I wish it made me feel better to cry
I hope you know how grateful I am.
for having you in my life.
Maybe we'll meet again.

Friday, August 13, 2010

There she blows

Second round of chemo, perhaps out of infinity...My surgeon told me I could be on it forever. I'm on an increased dose this round, so this morning, I responded in kind by barfing out the contents of my stomach... I have done nothing of any use to anyone today. It's days like these I really hate what's happening to me. Everyone else seems to be living normal life, I'm just trying to have one. I hope I remember this day, and look back on this post when my tumor comes back again. As of right now, I have no intention of doing this again.

I have been asked many times if I have prognosis. I don't, but the facts are these:

The doctors are treating this aggressively;

my tumor is a grade 3 out of 4;

when radiation is over, that will be one less weapon I will have in my arsenal;
It took four years for the tumor to grow to a point where is needed to be resected again.

Today was a bad day. No one may want to hear that, but that is my reality.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

I was struck by two postings I read relating to cancer an/or life threatening illnesses. One was of an interview The Atlantic magazine conducted an interview with author Christopher Hitchens, who has esophageal cancer, and also happens to be an atheist. He talks about how he copes, since he does not have God on his side, as it were. The interviewer asks him good questions, such as, is he ready to accept God as his personal savior, now that he is dying, to which Hitchens replies that he is not, but, even as an atheist, he is touched by his well-wishers.

"How are you?" asks interviewer.

"...I"m dying." responds Hitchens.

Hitchens goes on to say that " I am trying to die more like you."

"You don't know how I'm going to die"

"But I'm pretty sure how I'm going to die"

I think I understand what he's trying to say; that there is a certain luxury in not knowing how you're going to die, and therefore, some oppression in carrying a life-threatening illness. To me, it's like a stalker that threatens to strike, at any time and you can't hide from him.

The other posting I read dealt with how modern medicine had changed so such a point that the ill go through the stages of death, along with their families. I have mourned my death ever since I was first diagnosed. And now that I'm acting in Tumor 2--the Sequel..I am moving toward the stage of acceptance.