Sometimes I wish that someone could comfort me. Eric makes life easier and infinitely more joyful than it would be without him. Eric makes the worst situation bearable and the best situation better. Eric is constant and unshakeable and I love him with all of my heart. I loved him with all of my broken heart, when I met him... and now I love him with the full heart that he -- really -- healed.
Still, I want someone to tell me something both true and hopeful about my future.
I'm grateful for the women I talk to who share this disease. They're the ones who get it. They understand balancing act between fear and productivity. The know that quality of life isn't just a catchy phrase. I'm not grateful to all the people my friends know who had some other disease, and who are now "cured". I'm not grateful for all of the people who had cancers with very low long term survival rates who survived. A very low long term survival rate is different from NO long term survival.
I'm not grateful for the opportunities I have to tell people that I'm dying. It's not easy to say and it doesn't comfort me to say it. I don't want to have to tell anyone more than once.
Anyone who thinks they could have cancer better than me -- with more hope, vigor, or willingness to try alternative therapies -- is welcome to try. Honestly, though, I hope they don't have to. Because it sucks. And it kills you.
Really.
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2 comments:
I just cant't seem to express it in the way you need to hear it. If you could just feel my heart instead of listening to the words, maybe it would feel the way it's meant to come out?
I've described general experiences in this blog. No one should take any of this to heart. If I had something to say to someone, I'd say it... I promise....
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