it makes me think of benicio del toro's character laszlo from the movie based on hunter s. thompson's fear and loathing in las vegas, where laszlo is trippin' balls and he is on a merry go round in the hotel bar and he is trying to unload himself from it and he's hanging onto the bars and sticking his leg out feeling for solid ground. that's how i feel.
i've had the hardest time writing about this, this no woman's land i'm in. which the doctors would say you are living, and i'm guessing most people would agree, and i can see that, and i feel it and i'm fucking grateful. i am. but you see, i didn't make a secret pac with my god that if you let me live i will blobbity blah. i faced death as an inevitability, as the only outcome of my cancer diagnosis. but i am still here. in fact my doctors have called me a miracle. one of them said, not mo, my local oncologist that he has never seen a turnaround quite like it. brings tears to my eyes. i just don't quite know what to do with the news, with life.
my marriage seems to be the grand compromise. my husband said something very important recently, that maybe he has cancer fatigue. maybe he does. maybe he gave me all that he had and how could i ask for more? as my neurologist says after giving me brain news "does that make sense"? i may just walk away from this ride, but something has to die and it may be my marriage. you don't just get fingerbanged by the grim reaper and and walk away unscathed. there's blood and pus and tears and scars and bills and neglect. but goddammit there has to be more. like a life. a second chance at life. and i want to do it a bit differently.
"crap your crap fuck your thoughts it's party time"- the mattoid
