Could I just go into one room and NOT see the word cancer? Turn on the TV and not hear a news story about some phony cancer doc? Not think about it for more than 4 and 1/2 minutes? I am SO over it. I am over the troubled breathing. I am over crying about my worst fears and looking at myself in the mirror only to be repeatedly reminded (and shocked) about my situation. I'm really ready to be done with the stupid dummy pig brain C.
CANCER, NOW HEAR THIS: LEAVE ME ALONE. YOU'VE HAD YOUR TIME IN MY LIFE, NOW BE GONE WITH YOU.
Do you think those mutant cells are listening? I certainly hope so. I still have 5 weeks to go before the PET scan will tell us precisely how effective my treatment was. I am dreading this scan for a good number of reasons.
Numero Uno (aka Captain Obvious) - I don't want a lotta bad news.
Numero Dos - I don't want a little bit o bad news (or, be told I must repeat the scan 6 weeks later to be sure a different treatment is required).
Numero Tres - While I would love a miracle to descend upon our family, I dread returning to having the fertility struggle on the forefront. The stress, sadness, the addictive hoping, the frustration and the disappointment; the elements of each month.
Not to say that I haven't been in a very regular state of frustration throughout the past nine months (hmmmm... is that just a coincidence?), but I've had bigger fish to fry.
Looking over these reasons to dread the PET, I realize I'm up a creek. I can't win with a clean scan and I most definitely can't win with a dirty one.
Tonight's temporary solution involves watching The Best Thing I Ever Ate (both "at a deli" and "salty goodness") and working up an appetite. What's so wrong about drooling over a fresh corned beef special?