3:30 am. My appointment immanent this morning at 11:30 for a full body CT scan, with contrast. No eating for three hours prior to the scan. No problem. No problem. Growing weary of cancer this week, two long appointments. One with my palliative oncologist to discuss pain intervention. Today’s to peer into my body to check up on my cancer’s progression – for better or worse. In sickness and without a hope of tea; health, cancer eloped with me into a marriage meant for divorce. And not a single day since diagnosis goes by without the thoughts of dumping it for good. Our two- year anniversary is next month. So too, my husband and I celebrate our anniversary on Pi – 3.14. Of course, he’s a brilliant polymath and I’m an English major. Poetic justice on all fronts.
In metastatic disease, one never ever files for divorce. Oh, there’s paperwork. Like my wishes for the end of life procedures, who decides in the absence of my own ability to do so what wishes they carry out on my behalf. Fun stuff. Who wants the job? My husband took it reluctantly, mournfully. Last week I asked him to cremate me and make a glass marble with my remains. I joked he could keep me in his pocket and play with me whenever he wanted and I’d never complain again. He finds my humor very weird sometimes.
Last night I wanted just to laugh. We watched a stand up comedienne Kathleen Madigan and Craig had trouble sleeping afterwards. I came downstairs to try and work a bit on my Etsy shop. And here at 4 am I blogg in the kitchen, standing on the cold floor. Simon, my cat, drops mousies at my feet telling me it’s time for bed. Rrrrrrraow! I cry in his fur. He licks my nose. He’s waiting for me on the stairs.
Goodnight house, goodnight kitchen, goodnight blog, I’m done bitchin’.
Result. Nothing’s new. Nothing grew. No better no worse. It’s like my marriage. Nothing new. Nothing grew. I need more action on both fronts.
Stay tuned. Storms brewing. Not like tea. But like ideas. A brain storm fronts on the horizon.