the deep end
Last night I had a dream my pain was so large we rented out a space to house it, and people from all over came to browse the halls of my torture. They would make comments as if in an art gallery, “ah yes, I see this pain here represents the artist who can feel more deeply than the common man.” and I, though pained greatly, would chuckle at each pretentious comment about my suffering.
I met with my radiologist today. He had a look at my butt and (to no one’s surprised) said that he’s never seen anyone react as badly as I am. It is as if you skinned your knees, peeled back the scabs, and then rubbed the raw skin together constantly. That is what it feels like to move. “The good news is, usually the worse the side-effects are, the more the tumor has been destroyed.”
If you’re a cancer patient reading this, know that it won’t be as bad for you. If you’ve read the rest of my story, you know it’s always worse for me. I am the definition of sensitive. I have just two days left of treatment, and I’ll spend them being wheeled in a chair to the basement for treatment. I’ll spend them crying in pain, wishing it was all over. The worst of the side-effects will continue for at least a week after treatment, maybe two. That’s just the side-effects that make me cry in pain, I’ll still have the discomfort for at least a month.
Once I’m completely healed and feeling better it will be time to start over the pain process with surgery. I picture my self going to war. I don’t much like the war analogies, but I’m told that’s who I am now. I don’t get a say in the matter. I’m a warrior. I’m fighting for my life, I have to remember that. It’s what makes all this pain worth anything at all.