Monday, January 19, 2009
I got the chance to talk a fair bit with one of Melissa's aunts today, who went through the breast cancer fiasco a couple of years ago. It's funny that despite shared experiences, the mere fact that she's so much farther along than I am led to some inability to fully relate. I completely understand that indeed, something like this can awaken a person, and maybe it's easier to see the positive aspects of it once you're done chemo, at least, but we both agreed that while you're in the midst of it, it's pretty damned hard to see anything good.
I'm sure a lot of people are forced to re-evaluate their lives as a result of cancer. I'm sure a lot of people change their lives drastically once in remission. I, on the other hand, don't really foresee that. I was perfectly content with my lifestyle, and I miss it like fire. I was healthy, I was happy, and I was working toward something good. Sure, I've learned to no longer take some things for granted... But I learned that lesson within a month of my diagnosis. Fuck, I learned that even before I got formally diagnosed... I don't need to sit in the Chemo Suite at the hospital every other week, waiting for my veins to shrivel up and die, in order to become a "better person".
Boo-fucking-hoo for me. To paraphrase the crappy old song... It's my cancer, and I'll cry if I want to. Getting sick is definitely not showing me how strong a person I am. Instead, it's throwing me for near anxiety attacks with alarming frequency. If I stand any chance of not becoming an impoverished version of Scrooge McDuck, I need to give up and let someone more qualified take over. Otherwise, I'm headed for a massive tailspin between this arm crap, the port, chemo, cancer, and this cold that's the immune system equivalent of a major cock-tease.
Hoo, and this entry started in decent spirits...