If I were very certain my cancer was gone, I'd write more in this blog and perhaps turn it into something different.
BUUTTTT.. cancer is a crafty little monster.
I have another scan coming up and I'm terrified. TERRIFIED.
Never let myself be too happy or too relaxed knowing those nasty little cells might be multiplying. On one level, I think this was just a fluke and it's in my life history now... gone in the past and growing moldy.
Of course there is a crazed compartment in my brain just waiting for the ax to fall. Fear fear fear fear fear. Our tiny little Earthly fear brains.
However, I am now mortality-scarred. I've been flayed open and presented with it and healed. Now I have built some resistance and can handle it better if cancer does come 'round to visit again. When I was nearing the end of radiation, I swore that if I had to do it all over again I'd rather die. It was that horrible to me. But now, I can see myself gearing up for another battle if necessary.
I tend to compartmentalize. I don't know if it's a good or bad thing. So this blog is locked in a compartment and I don't bring it out until it's needed.
I wish I could record the rain sound right now. The constant of it. I've not lost the habit of taking mental pictures of things I love. I mean, I always have really. But now I take them knowing I might want to access them as I lay on my death bed.
death bed.
The thought of dying over a long period of time makes me want to slash the curtains with a knife. I can't stand that thought. I really can't. The slow decay. Fading.
I want to go out with a flame. I want electricity shooting from my fingertips. I want to explode into a million atoms like Powder in the film.
I don't want to leave this Earth crumpled and withered. Ravaged and eviscerated. That's such a crock of shit.
