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.
1 comment:
All I can think is..fuck! Cristianito! I remember some of those carefree days: waking to Pat's soul music at 10am, warm breeze on our shoulders outside the coffee shop on 17th and Dolores, drinking wine at the kitchen table from stemless glasses, and having you play grab ass :P
I don't know what kind of pain you're feeling- but I hope that sunlight finds its way to you in the moments in between. I hope your fear melts away naturally- replaced by wonder, or ecstasy, or hope.
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