I could cry, but with everything swirling around me, I'm not sure I can.
Maybe later, after I make dinner and pick up the house and try to figure out what to do about a health plan once my employer cans me and COBRA runs out. Mike's being headhunted and the bottom line always comes down to who can match my present health plan. I don't think small businesses can even come close to matching what I have, but at the moment…I feel like the end is near, so why am I even thinking about this? Why am I even worrying about work?
Why don't I just cry and get it out?
Well, there's nothing like one's husband walking through the door to start the water works. "Stop crying!" Did I mention he's an ex-Marine?
I'm more scared now than in the beginning. It's been over a year since I knew something was wrong. 16 months are up, how much longer can it be? What else can be done for me? What if Tarceva (erlotinib), Alimta (pemetrexed), Vinorelbine…(see more drugs here) actually don't work for me? Well, one of these may not extend my survival, but perhaps in my last few months I'll be able to fly somewhere far…Italy, the Great Barrier Reef, Japan—and say my last goodbyes to the romantic notion that there's still a beautiful world out there. And maybe, unlike the past couple of months, I won't squander the time cleaning my house and pounding away at this light box.
Interesting that tuberculosis should be called "consumption". This really is no different. Cancer is most certainly consumption…of the worst kind. In the beginning I was full of lovingkindness and attempts at truly accepting this life for what it is, that it's all there is. It requires tremendous discipline to maintain this thought, and I now see why becoming a monk actually eases the task of maintaining the Buddhist frame of mind. Living in the modern world makes it extremely difficult to maintain that sort of focus. But it goes a long way towards having peace in one's heart when fear is ravaging one's mind.
I guess I need to start meditating again. I didn't get very far with it—I wasn't diligent enough. I really need it now. I need to calm the raging seas inside my head. I'm coming up on 4 weeks without medication to keep my disease at bay. I've got to fight it somehow. Maybe there really is something to that mental thing. And since the juicer's collecting dust, I suppose I should attempt once again to be "good".