I'm beyond exhausted. Every day, I think, will I be able to wake up tomorrow? Unfortunately, I wake up every hour... doc gave me a prescription for Ambien, a low dose to try, but I was too tired to GO PICK IT UP! What the...
I was musically fulfilled this week for sure. Deliriously tired, and my head has now started to tingle pretty much 'round the clock. I guess it's a cool feeling, but I know it's just my body telling me to fuck off. But it's also sometimes fun - like I'm on some bizarre drugs. I'm losing my ability to think and speak. For the people that I've met recently (and they don't know what I'm going through), they probably just think I'm a space cadet. Maybe I am. Maybe that is my After-Cancer-Status. Perhaps I'm meant to be an airhead. Omigosh, life just got, like, so much easier!
Tonight, I managed to drag my flab-ass to the gym. I got on an elliptical and burned 200 alleged calories in about 40 minutes while watching some bullshit on Dr. Oz about women's secrets that they keep from doctors that they shouldn't. Things like taking lots of caffeine in, bad V.O. (vaginal odor, you can't make this shit up!), that they smoke but tell docs they don't, brushing teeth in the shower, all these weird things. But it was all that my fuzzy head could take, anyway. And I'm glad to not be one of those chicks. Especially the one with V.O. Really, you are ashamed to ask your doc but you go on national TV and tell the world? I think there's something worse than your odiferous crotch, but that just may be the radiation talking.
After the gym, I popped into our local soul food joint to get some fried chicken, plantains, okra, and a slice of red velvet for my daughter and I to split for dinner. I had planned on her eating all of the chicken, but she got full after one leg, so naturally I ate the other. Because radiation is making me more ravenous than usual. And I'm hormonal. It was good, I can't lie. That red velvet cake... DAMN. Glad I only bought one piece. I had a small scoop of frosted flakes (really, Trader Joe brand which is way better) from my daughter's "weekend cereal" (not to be consumed as a meal during the week!) with a spot of almond milk. Still hungry. Methinks I just need to go to sleep and hope to stay asleep. I really wish I'd gotten the energy up to pick up my prescription. Perhaps the hammer inside of my brain will keep banging until nothing is left. Then I'll definitely fall asleep. Owch.
The good news? Well, I'm still a cancerous woman. I feel like one, anyway. But - I only have 8 radiation torture sessions left. It sounds good to everyone but me. I hear that and my expander curls up and cries. My armpit aches. I'm glad I can't feel the place where I once had a breast. That shit would really hurt now. But I'm putting my Creme De la Mer on it 2-3 times a day. It's so expensive and I don't give a shit. I can't cheap out when my reconstruction depends on the care of my skin.
It's been tough trying to dress for gigs. I can only wear a few bras, and no matter what, I always look a little off. Now the skin is getting discolored.
The other day, I was getting my stuff together at the Big Fat Cancer Zapping Club, and an older gentleman looked at me and said, "It's so sad that someone so young has cancer." I told him it was cool, I am just getting it out of the way.
But I know the truth. It'll never be out of the way.
I'm a fucking Cancer Patient.
Forevs.
I'll never stop worrying. Until I die. That'll be a strange sigh of relief, huh?
Stupid Fucking Cancer. Take those broccoli sprouts and shove them up your ass, if you have one!
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