Facing major surgery this week. To once again try and destroy the cancer in my body that refuses to die. It's coming down to the end. I can feel it. Tuesday the doctors will cut out more of my internal organ to try and eliminate the tumors that are left. A whipple and a retroperitoneal resection.
In the interim, time is distorted by strong opiates that in an effort to eliminate physical pain serve also to displace me in a space shared by no one else. A space occupied by fear, hopelessness, despair, sorrow and exhaustion.
I'm 30 years old and I'm terrified that I might die of cancer, that I might die of complications from these procedures, that I might live the rest of my life terrified of dying by way of cancer, as it's not an easy death.
Not much more to say at the moment. Next time I return to this blog a new diagnosis will have been given; en extended lease or perhaps a notice of eviction.
What I wouldn't give to go back to a carefree existence right now? Where I felt young, healthy, attractive and to some degree invincible.
Those were the days.
