Tag Archives: Fear

‘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.

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