It's 10:30. PM. My girl is still awake trying to crunch in her vacation packet. I've been trying to trust her to at least pull out homework when I ask multiple times, yet, I found this huge math packet when I was looking for something else in her school bag this afternoon. She went to visit her dad for a few hours and it looks like nothing got done even though I told him it had to be worked on.
Part of me says, screw it. Let her fail. It'll be a tough lesson.
But the other part says, she needs to try her best. And realize that there are no shortcuts. You can't ignore work and make it go away.
So, the Nutter Butters that hubby bought me before surgery that I'd been severely craving were opened last night - and tonight, I'm doing a number on them. Even though I don't eat wheat. Or dairy. Or crap. The good news is that once I finish them, we will never buy them again. Seriously. Mainly because we're pretty much making all of our food from scratch now. As much as we can. For our NYE dinner, hubby made a ridiculous chili. I love a man that can cook. Let's face it, I love my man and would love him regardless of his culinary skills... but DAMN. He can cook.
I keep thinking about the radiation - it keeps getting delayed. I keep wondering if that's a sign to not do it. I've always looked at western medicine as a bunch of barbaric money making crap. And here I am, without a breast, my nerves are shot, I'm about to sign up for 6 weeks of radiation? 5 days a week? 30 DAYS OF FUCKING RADIATION.
And then the stupid tamoxicrap.
What I really want to do is have my reconstruction surgery and call it quits. If the shit comes back, it comes back. I'll deal then. I'm over this bullshit "medicine". If I didn't have my hubby and kid, I'd probably have skipped any treatment or surgery at all and just lived my life until it stopped. And part of me says it's the sane thing to do now. The only sane treatment I'm getting is the acupuncture.
I'm just over it all. I want my life back. I am sick of people telling me that these things increase my survival rate. My survival rate? You're going to zap me with toxic shit, make me ingest toxic crap for years, and tell me that I'll maybe survive a little longer? In misery?
I find that when I think of all these treatments, my usual pristine dietary life goes out the window. Hence, the cookies and wine. Did I mention wine? I never drank before my diagnosis. Maybe a thimble of wine once a week. Now, it's almost a medication at night to try and trick me into relaxing. But I'm not relaxed. I'm pissed as hell.
I read things about holistic treatments, that all cost a bundle that I don't have, some are illegal... and they all seem to go along with a quality of life. And yes, they increase survival rate. And, even if they don't, they don't destroy the little life left in us. My mom passed right after her 50th birthday. She saw me go to college. I was on my own. And she could die knowing that I was free from our home. I don't wish the same for my daughter, but I certainly don't want her to watch me as I watched my mom, obviously conflicted, hurting, and sick from treatment. Quality of life from everything to nothing in no time. Silently crying when she thought I was asleep. And here I sit, crying, and I know she's still up. She probably knows.
And if I give in to western medicine, does that mean I've given up on myself? If I just go by what insurance will pay for? I feel like a fucking science experiment. I'm a guineapig in a cage, a lab rat, a monkey with her skull removed, so they can poke and prod at my brain and see what funny tricks I will perform.
Hemp Oil... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0psJhQHk_GI I've read a lot about it. Why the hell is this illegal?
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