This is how it begins

Woke up around 3 am really sick and in a lot of pain. Vomiting. Feeling like someone was stabbing me in the eye and stomach. It’s now 12 hours later, and I’m still in bed, making small improvements. D is alarmed. I can tell he wants me to go to the ER, but I am not about that life.

It’s weird how quickly everything changes.

It’s messy –

I found out that my SIL has breast cancer. I don’t know many details. We aren’t close. I want to be a support for her, obviously, but I also don’t know that I’m actually the best person to be there for her. Yes, I understand the challenges she’s currently facing, but I’m over here on an entirely different journey now. So I’m struggling with how to help or if she even wants to interact with me. After all, I’m a reminder of how badly this can end, ykwim?

We MBC ladies don’t typically interact with early stagers much. We have our own support groups, our own issues to face. This isn’t just a chapter in the book of our lives; it becomes the entire end of the novel, and we hope for as many chapters as possible. We’re not going to ring the bell at the end of treatment. It’s just not the same, and I’m struggling with my feelings around this, because I’ve done both. I rang the bell. I thought I was finished with this, and yet here I am. How can I offer support or inspiration to anyone at this point?


Fuck cancer.

Absolute fuckery strikes again

I talked to my oncologist three times today. It seems that, after reviewing the MRI, neither she nor the radiologist believes there is cancer in my spine, though there does appear to be a benign tumor in the right hip, which is likely causing the pain.

This fuck up in communication began in the ER, where apparently the radiologist checked my scan against a scan from 20 fucking-18 an noted lots of metastatic changes. YEAH NO FUCKING SHIT, BRO.

I’ll have clearer answers after bone scan scheduled on Thursday. And, I get that this is likely very good news, but I just can’t get happy about it right now. I want off this fucking rollercoaster. I’m going to fucking stroke out from all the stress. I had gotten myself all hyped up to die within the next year. Like seriously I’m going to end up back in the psych ward.

I feel like I can’t trust anything medical professionals say to me. Like I can’t trust anything ever actually. Sometimes I just want it to be over with already.

Sorry, I need to whine about it some more.

I am extremely tense at all times; even when I’m in bed trying to relax. Between the stress and the pain, I just can’t unclench. My muscles are constantly sore as a result. Also add in some bone pain with a side of headache. Oh and just enough indigestion to keep me guessing on the gastrointestinal mets. Fucking cancer, man.