I made it through the holidays. It wasn’t easy … it wasn’t going to be, that was obvious. My daughter had a good time and that’s all that matters, really, even if I had to fake the holiday cheer bit personally. It’s impossible to describe to those without the knowledge of what standing in terminal shoes really feels like to explain how the taint creeps in, how often unbidden thoughts come of “how many of these will I have left” and “what will these days be like when I’m gone for those left behind?”
I didn’t write here because it’s just too painful for me.
I am waiting for the Mayo Clinic to look over my latest test results to confirm they are still doing the transplant in February — there was a paperwork snafu, as usual, so it’s being dealt with late. I am hopeful that I can get down there to meet with the doctor and the logistics folks before things start.
Oh, I discovered last chemo day something new and even more depressing than previous discoveries — I was sitting there next to a pregnant woman. If there’s one thing an infusion room is good for it’s to remind you of how fucking awful cancer can be.
I feel like I’m in some sort of toxic orbit right now — the last few years have been so painful, with one thing coming after another, and there seems to be no let up. 2013 was fucking terrible, so obviously my family was hoping for a reprieve in 2014. But here I sit today waiting for news that won’t really make a difference about my cat, Mischief. He was acting funny last night so I took him to an emergency vet and sure enough, he’s in kidney failure. They are doing more tests but there’s no way I can afford an estimated $8,000 surgery for a cat so regardless of what they find I’ll probably be going over there later to say goodbye today. I’ve had several cats but he was truly a one-of-a-kind animal — outgoing, friendly, and a teddy bear to my daughter. And me.
I’m sick of feeling like life is unfair.