I am so tired.
I’m always tired lately. It’s so draining acting as if I’m ok with this when sometimes all I want to do is curl up and cry. But I can’t do that when I want to or need to. Does that make me mellow dramatic? Is that adulthood? Is it just the need to release the struggle with what’s going on inside of me?
The little voices in my head just don’t stop. “You’re going to die.” “It’s going to be ugly.” “Where are you going to die?” “When are you going to die?” “Will my bones break?” “When will my bones break?” “you are going to die.” I can get them to stop for a few minutes at a time then they start all over again. I can’t focus for long. I lose my train of thought.
It’s so exhausting.
I try, some days, to take in and remember all the beautiful things I see around me as if my memories are going with me.
Then the voices start up again.
I don’t think that the people around me want to hear about my fears and see my tears as often as I’d like to scream and cry about them so I just try to hold them in until I get home.
Sometimes I am just so angry and other times I’m just so tired that it doesn’t matter anymore. I feel like I’ve been fighting this every since I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2011. I just need a break from it all.

I had an appointment with my GP yesterday and I’ve been thinking about it since then. I’ve always been ambivalent when it comes to him. When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, he was the one that was all anxious and freaked out about it. He did get x-rays of my hip before we knew what was going on and tried to get me booked for a CT but didn’t press it when it was turned down. I’ve never considered him to be on the ball but I keep going to him because he knows my history.
I was there to get a prescription refilled and he asked how I was doing. And he asked me a ton of questions. Was my treatment palliative? Did I know they had a great palliative team and that as for pain meds, there’s no limit as long as I’m cognizant. Have I considered the “quality vs quantity” and did I know which I wanted? Did I think that after I die, that that’s it or did I think there was more? What was I going to do with what was left of the rest of my life?
After sharing a personal story of his, his next words to me were in part, “if you want to write a book, write a book, write something for your family. Spend time with your family because it’s the only way they’ll know you’re ok with this. Record the song you’ve always wanted to sing. Take chances. Take risks. There isn’t any reason not to now. While you still can.”
I walked out of there impressed and determined to create a bucket list and fill it with I want to’s and not be concerned with how silly or selfish they are.
While I still can.

I spent the weekend pretending I don’t have MBC. It worked. Mostly. Except when I got tired or moved the wrong way or did my laundry or when I sat for too long or laid down for too long 🙂
I tried to remember what it was like, what I was like before I got diagnosed with this. And I can’t.
One of the things I remember the most was being really pissed off that I never got a real break away from my oncologist. I’m not sure why that’s important to me other than the fact that I feel like I’ve had cancer for forever and having a break from him would have meant a break from cancer.