‘Til Death Do Us Part

Next Thursday at 7 a.m., I will be dressed in scrubs, stuffed into a tube, trying to stay still with my arms outstretched over my head for 45 minutes, as a machine takes a look at my lymph nodes.  I don’t speak of this all that often, but my doctor suggests the ventilation of anxiety and thoughts may help clear my mind; I think she is full of shit and has nothing else to offer me but anti-anxiety drugs that make me drowsy.  She means well though, and I wouldnt be here without her. Thanks Dr. Trubowitz.

It is weird who you share these things with.  I am making this public by posting it on a blog, but who reads these things anyway?  I hope someone going through the same situation happens to stumble upon this, giving me their routine and rituals.  It is so hard.

I went out to catch up with a friend last week.  We had been meaning to catch up for some time and had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.  I was excited to talk to this person, share life experiences, and what was happening with one another in our paths of existence.  Although I dont know this person all that well, there is a sense of security, allowing yourself to say things to someone who is willing to listen.  Old friends and family members listen, but always feel that they have to say something afterward, usually resulting in an awkward conversation, or an accidental inappropriateness that leaves them uncomfortable.  It is nice when someone just listens, knowing that you just have something to say.  It was here that I just said, “I don’t know if I can do it all over again.”

It comes down to the fact of being uncertain I could tolerate treatment a second time.  The luxury of being lined up in a row next to sick patients plugged into machines absorbing bags of poison is one thing;  bed ridden, counting on your own bone marrow to work an autologous miracle for you is another.

Life has been treating me well and my momentum is carrying me in the right direction.  It took everything in me to get rolling and moitivated to push through the first time around.  My family and friends were there, but I kept them hovering above the surface, hiding my fright and weakness during 8 months of chemo.  Part of my insecurity and stubborness is terrifeied to be out of control, unable to enjoy this beautiful ride we are on.  What I am most afraid of is not accomplishing all the things I have longed for.  I want to be here and I want to be there.  I want to see this place, dine here, hold her hand, hold my child, remodel my kitchen, take him to his first day of school, scrapbook first, second, and third birthdays, stay up all night with a sick and helpless infant that cant communicate, and grow old with my best friends.  I have tried to pretend that death doesnt scare me, but every time I get ready for a scan, the thought fucking terrifies me.

1 Comment

Filed under Family, Friends, Life, Love, Lover, Me

One response to “‘Til Death Do Us Part

  1. I’m not really going through the same thing but your doctor is right, you should put it out there.
    I don’t know if this will help you at all but when I was about 18, I realized that I didn’t believe in god or the afterlife or anything. I used to have panic attacks when I thought about death and people I knew dying. It got so bad that eventually, my parents took me to a grief counselor who told me that therapy would eventually make me face the fact that people die. I tried so hard to make myself believe in something, in anything really, that would give my life meaning or at least give me a sense that my life is eternal and it would go on forever. I didn’t understand that all I needed to believe in was myself. Because honestly, I have no idea what happens when I’m dead until I actually die. Maybe death is the best thing that will ever happen to me.
    Its just is something that we all stick in the back of our brains. We are all going to die someday, we just don’t like to think about it and I don’t really think we should too much. Humans are built to be afraid of death, why try to fight it? Instead, I just focus on being happy right now. Of enjoying each and every moment of life and always looking forward to tomorrow and all the things I’ll ever do.
    When the worst of times come along, happiness and hope is the only tangible thing that you can hold on to. Because everyone has the opportunity to be happy. Whether you’re rich or poor. Statistically speaking, happy people live longer. Happy people are more social. Happy men find more sexual partners. Happy women make more babies. Happy cancer patients have more chances of beating cancer.
    I’m sorry about your situation and I know you didn’t ask for my whole long essay here, but I really hope you’ll stay positive.

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