Jackyl

A lot of time has passed since I’ve last posted (Does anyone read this anyways?)

So much time in fact, that I am nearing the one year anniversary of my “D” day.

The day I was diagnosed with cancer.

 

It’s a strange feeling.

There are times when I am at the cancer center for a check up or blood work, and I am transported back in time when my life revolved around those hospital stays.

It makes me almost feel lost again.

The thought of me getting back to “life” somehow feels adrift.  There is this feeling that I should be on my way back up to the third floor for another round of treatment.  Another week of lasix, heavy chemo, and major fatigue.

Funny what you get used to when you bitch about not wanting to get used to something.

Maintenance has been slow going.  Every two weeks I am pulled off of something due to my white blood cell count being to low still, or my liver enzymes being to elevated.  At the present moment I am on nothing.  Which worries me slightly that I will have to stay on maintenance longer than anticipated, but my Oncologist assures me that I am doing just fine and not to worry.

And really, I’m not all that worried.  But it does sit in the back of my mind.  That all the progress I’ve made in the past few months, could be taken away from me once again.  Just like that.  One day I will wake up and there will be the petechiae all over my legs.  The incredible fatigue that was once so encapsulating.  The ache in my joints that left me immobile.  Being dumped on death’s doorstep once again.

Ok.  So I was never on the doorstep.  More like on the block.  But I got the fuck out of there, and I know I would get the fuck out of there again if I had to.  But I’m not going back there.

Ever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ramble On

I know.  I know I’ve been a total poo as of late.  Debbie Downer, all pessimistic and shit.  Jaded and bitter. 
My sense of humor dulled and watered….my outlook on life darkened.

I’m in an emotional rut.  My depression is getting the best of me.  Fucker.  I hate that guy. 

I’ve been trying to climb out of this hole it created….er…I created, and get back on my feet.  It’s not easy.  It’s hard to find rainbows and unicorns amongst all the dick cheese and grime of this world. (Haha…dick cheese…ehhhh….ewwww.)

There are truths I seek, and they all seem to lead to disappointing endings.  Or fallacies that were never truths to begin with.   Carefully guised in the form of subtle manipulation and insecurities.
It’s hard to, well for me anyways, to discern these truths as axioms or if they are just isolated to me.  Am I just the one with over the top expectations?  Am I stuck on “expectations”? Or is it hope? What’s the difference? This seems to be what I am stuck on as of late.

We all know that we should be open and honest.  Love unconditionally.  So why do some individuals find this to be so taxing?  Why is it so incredibly crushing when the trust you place in another human being is violated?
Why do I constantly set such high expectations?  Are these high expectations?
It’s not me…..It’s the other persons crap. I don’t need to carry it. Yet I do. How can I not when it does involve me….as in the way they treat me.

I miss the me I discovered a few years ago.  Sure sure, she was going through some major shit.  But she got through it.  With sass and perseverance.  Intention, even though she had no idea what the intent was or where it would take her.

Breathe in….breathe out…move forward with Intent.

Did I forget this?
Hmmm….
Or maybe what it all boils down to is that I dimmed myself down due to the insecurities of someone else.

Never dim people.

I dunno.  I’m a just rambling here.  Making no sense as usual.

Late Night Ramblings

I’m exhausted.  My brain hurts. I’m saying things and not even realizing what I’m saying.  Complete sentences just tumble out of my mouth with no conscious thought of their meaning.  Yet in my head all I hear is blah blah blah.  I’m so sick of my voice. 
I’m eating like shit.  Not making healthy choices.  Just grabbing whatever is fast and available.  My stomach seems to think that the only way to be satiated is with consuming greasy caloric laden foods.  My thighs and ass hate my stomach. 
My stomach doesn’t have to worry about being physically attractive to the opposite sex.  I mean, it gets to hang out inside of me….and what dude is turned on by stomachs?  Other than serial killers who like to disembowel  the innards of others?  I totally get why my ass and thighs hate my stomach.  My stomach is kind of a selfish asshole, not taking the rest of my body into consideration.  Just doing as it pleases.  Whining and grumbling for cheeseburgers.
Never mind the work the rest of the body has to do to work off that crap.

My boss….is an asshole.  I understand why her husband left her.  So many times today I wanted to tell her to go fuck herself and walk out…but where would that get me?  Rent is due….and I’m already a day late.

I want nothing more than to listen to the hymns and songs of insects and frogs that inhabit the night.
I missed the fireflies.
*sigh*

I want the life my cat leads.  I would gladly trade places for a life of no thumbs and licking my butt as long as it meant I get to sleep all day and not give a shit about anything except treats, food, that fast moving red dot, and a clean litter box.

I’m very on edge.
Flowers would be nice.  Just a little something.