Update: Permanent
Currently Playing: David Cook - Permanent
Currently Reading: Twilight Series (again)
So, I'm still doing terrible.
I'm not posting or emailing or having contact with humans in general. Mostly, I feel too awful to put thoughts together, and even when I can they amount to misery. Which is kind of, you know, best not shared.
I've seen my specialist again. It's bad. The clutch of growths is indeed gone, yes, but they are of a kind that are going to come back. Worse, he thinks the damage they've done is permanent. I'm not going to get better. Ever.
The Spousal Unit doesn't accept this.
I was in the ER again all of Monday, with the IVs and the screaming and the whole ugly deal, just as if I'd never had two surgeries. As if I still had a clump of tumours in my middle.
But the S.U. won't admit I've lost.
That *we* lost.
Of course, most of the time--no matter how bad I hurt, even when I'm a sobbing mess, and my rational mind wants and begs my body to just die already--I don't think I've lost either. But I mean it different. My body is lost. And sure, my life hurts real bad, I'm not going to lie, ever. But I still win. I've got the most amazing person for a partner, a person who has to suffer unbelievable crap to be with me, and yet is somehow convinced I'm totally worth it.
I wouldn't have chosen to live.
But I'm here, and I have to fight to stay that way.
I might not get forever. This is it, so I have to hold on harder than the pain, harder than death itself. That's the price. The S.U. will stay with me, but I have to stay.
A terrible price.
And totally worth it...
Currently Reading: Twilight Series (again)
So, I'm still doing terrible.
I'm not posting or emailing or having contact with humans in general. Mostly, I feel too awful to put thoughts together, and even when I can they amount to misery. Which is kind of, you know, best not shared.
I've seen my specialist again. It's bad. The clutch of growths is indeed gone, yes, but they are of a kind that are going to come back. Worse, he thinks the damage they've done is permanent. I'm not going to get better. Ever.
The Spousal Unit doesn't accept this.
I was in the ER again all of Monday, with the IVs and the screaming and the whole ugly deal, just as if I'd never had two surgeries. As if I still had a clump of tumours in my middle.
But the S.U. won't admit I've lost.
That *we* lost.
Of course, most of the time--no matter how bad I hurt, even when I'm a sobbing mess, and my rational mind wants and begs my body to just die already--I don't think I've lost either. But I mean it different. My body is lost. And sure, my life hurts real bad, I'm not going to lie, ever. But I still win. I've got the most amazing person for a partner, a person who has to suffer unbelievable crap to be with me, and yet is somehow convinced I'm totally worth it.
I wouldn't have chosen to live.
But I'm here, and I have to fight to stay that way.
I might not get forever. This is it, so I have to hold on harder than the pain, harder than death itself. That's the price. The S.U. will stay with me, but I have to stay.
A terrible price.
And totally worth it...
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