Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Chemo in less than six hours. In some ways, I can't wait. My neck hurts, I'm anxious and fatigued, and I'm about to tear my skin off, I'm that itchy. I've bitched about the stats before. In the United States, there's some 1000-1200 people diagnosed with Hodgkin's every year. Given that treatment is roughly six months, at any time, there'd be only half as many patients. But for use of easy numbers, let's say there's 1000 people with it. Canada's population is 1/10 that of the United States, so let's assume there's 100 people in Canada with Hodgkin's, then. Only about a quarter of these people have the wonderful symptom of pruritus. That would mean that in all of Canada, there's maybe 25 other motherfuckers as miserable as I am right about now.
Seriously, fuck cancer. Twenty-five people? That's not even a school bus. That's a SHORT bus. That's an honours seminar.
That's fucked up.
I'm not going to start being all "woe, woe is me", but I can't help but feel as though I got really, really fucked over.
Once I kick this, I'm fucking buying a boat and living off-shore, L. Ron Hubbard-like. Minus the Xenu, though.
Maybe I'll look into Sealand. I'm not going to be the same coming out of this, and I think it'll only hurt me in the long run, if I try to ignore that. I'm going to need to make some radical changes, but I don't know which way to go. Some people, when they get sick, they become kinder. I can tell you that that's not the case. I've just realised how precious little time I have, and how limited my resources are. I'll just choose to allocate them more appropriately, towards the people I love, and to hell with everyone else. Some people find religion when they get sick. Some people find comfort in faith. Let's say that my feelings towards the all-powerful healers are less than positive, right now.
Fuck cancer. Fuck it so very, very hard.