I’ve been in the hospital for five nights. I’m hoping to avoid a sixth. Currently waiting to chat with a dietician regarding my new dietary restrictions. Hopefully it won’t be too burdensome. I do know I have to keep it low fiber. No skins. Mostly soft foods. They’ve dangled the possibility of discharge today, and I’m all about getting the fuck out of here, even though I have no idea what the future will look like. I’m sort of scared to be on my own again, but I’m more sick of being in this hospital. I feel disgusting. I want to shower and crawl into my own bed. I want to cuddle my pets. I want to be at home with my kids, celebrating Jackson’s birthday.
I have no clue what my treatment plan is at this point. The oncologist doesn’t know if it’s safe to restart Halaven. I don’t really know where that leaves us. Part of me hopes for the possibility of a long term treatment, and part of me feels foolish for it. I feel like we will be contacting hospice sooner rather than later. I’m not ready for that, but I am ready to stop my suffering. I honestly have no idea how I’m still here; still fighting. The human body is certainly resilient. It keeps going even when the spirit is weak. If I could have even a few days of feeling good, I think my spirit could rebound.
I miss my kids like crazy. Freya was here for a couple of hours last night, and it broke my heart that I couldn’t go home with her. She’s going through some shit right now and she needs me. Luckily, my super awesome af bestie held down the fort with my girl so that D could stay here at the hospital with me. I’m so grateful for the love and support of my family and friends.
And today I have a teenager! How the hell did that happen? It makes me feel old, but in a good way. It’s a privilege. Such a beautiful privilege. Never forget.