Cancer is a bitch - (repost from FB)

-
I hate being called a fighter

Being a fighter means I’m in a battle

A battle means there’s a chance I’ll lose

The truth is I lost the day I got diagnosed

I’m sick of the positive outlook from people who either don’t have cancer or don’t have the same cancer and situation.

“Everyone is different” after all...

Nobody else has to live the ‘day’ in ‘one day at a time’

Only me.

Nobody else feels the constant pain, chest tightness, despair and absolute heartbroken desolation at feeling zero relief after two difficult chemo sessions.

Oh the tumour looks smaller? Good. Why does my GE junction feel smaller too? Eating has only gotten harder.

And so has living. And that’s the honest ugly broken truth.

No, I’m not ok.

Cancer is a fucking bitch.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

One more before I forget myself

-
I wish I had something more profound to share as I shuffle off this mortal coil. My brain is so muddled as I can’t eat and continue to lose lucidity everyday. It’s now hard to keep down water too. Hopefully that means it won’t be long before I go. This existence is torture. Everyone keeps saying just get them to up your pain meds but it’s not about the pain. The pain I have is from mechanical issues to do with the esophagus, tumours and FOUR stents. Not to mention the ascites fluid pressing down on everything to boot. I can’t think straight much less be wise and loving and give people hope. If anything I just want to sleep forever - I’m so done. I wake and it’s all day vomiting, can’t keep anything down. Maybe I will for a few hours but it’ll come back up later eventually. Could be a blockage further down, could be something else.  Oh how I wish I’d just go in my sleep. None of this active dying death rattle bullshit. Just. Take. Me. Now.  When my family sit with me, I
Read more

We Do Hear You

-
They say hearing is the last to go when one dies. I think this is 100% true because it's such a heightened sense when everything else is failing. For months now, I've heard my family through closed doors and walls speak about me. "She said" "Her pain this" "She hasn't that". I both love and hate it. Love that they care about me so much and are taking such good care of me. But I hate that I have become a problem that needs fixing. I know they'll say that's not the case, but there is no way around not feeling like a burden. Especially when you see the stress signs on your family. More fighting with each other, but not with me. More grey hairs. Emotional ticks manifesting physically. Lack of sleep. Worry. Depression. It's all to be expected. I would be the same. But fuck, does it suck to be the one "causing" it all. But I'm not talking about that today. Today I want to talk about what most caregivers probably don
Read more

Living 2 weeks at a time

-
I've been wondering what to write about next. I come up with ideas of things that might help enlighten others, help other patients... but I never sit down to write them. I either don't feel well enough or my brain is foggy. I guess today I'll talk about how over the last 4 months I've learned to live 2 weeks at a time. That means I try not to plan anything more than 2 weeks ahead - and it stresses me when I'm forced to. Visitors, treatment plans... it's never anything I actually want to do. I've just been existing, having trouble finding joy in the things I used to love, and sometimes even in people that I do love. I frantically refresh my support groups, still looking for an answer to everything. I have found solace in the fact that I'm not alone. And yet somehow within my young people's support group, I still manage to be the odd one out. Everybody else is on a curative path, or has completed treatment. Meanwhile I'm just... coasting. I
Read more