Going home...

Well, she came home today. She was discharged at noon and we were there to pick her up. She was waling around, a little slower than usual, but getting around nonetheless. I know she was anxious to get out of there – lying in a room with three other sick men does not make a lady feel good…

She seems to be doing okay.

I think I am doing okay as well, but sometimes I feel as if this is all a dream, and that she does not have anything, that this was just an operation…

I am waiting for the other shoe to drop – the bad news to come screaming into my life like a heroine addict that’s gone days without a fix.

Can she be fixed?

I refuse to believe that this can kill her.

But the reality is there, isn’t it any cut and dry answers. People die from cancer all the time, but then again, there are so many people who survive! So many people are saying: “it’s all in the attitude”. I wonder what it will be like when she starts chemo, when she begins to lose her hair, when she begins to get weak and sick from the treatment – will the will to live still be there, as strong as it is now?

God knows when I was at my worst during my episodes; nothing could have made me want to sick around to see any possibilities for a cure.
I didn’t even care if I lived or died.
Everything was bleak and lifeless.

I am very afraid.

Money is another issue.
I feel as if I am constantly being tested – my friend is selling his lite kit – 700$. A steal for what it’s worth. Then there is the art festival in Seattle in March. And then, and then, and then…

The list is endless, but my time and pocket book are not.
And that freaks me out too.

And my body is in a state of revolt – I think I might have some cyst on my ovary acting up again. The right one feels like its being stoked with a really sharp pencil. I had that before – PCOS – poly –cystic –ovarian –syndrome. Sometimes these little cysts get nasty.
Sometimes they turn cancerous.

So many people have cancer – I can’t help but think that in some strange way, I might be next. Either that or turning 40 will come first – and both will send me into a complete crisis.