my dystopia: farewell tour postponed

not many people have lived to tell their first-hand apocalyptic survivors tale.  some do, like malala.  that girl, just thinking about her makes me feel like i just had an adjustment at the chiropractor.  she just wants to go to school and i just want to stay alive long enough to see woody allen's first tv series on amazon starring miley cyrus.  i've turned into a toddler.

you know toddler behavior, it is what i picture ADD looks like, and for that matter feels like.  and that's what i thought i was experiencing- ADD.  i can't even pay attention to this long enough to dash off a whole post.  either i am benjamin buttoning waning to pupae phase or have busted the shackles of organizing my day with a to do list.  the latest version of me, the most recent edition doesn't have a to do list to tick off.  i have an intention list and find myself at the end of the day having gotten to most of it, but with no idea of how to explain this new process.  because i don't know myself anymore.  i had prepped for death.  i began a farewell journey,  i was steeling myself for death.  i bought stationery for fucksake.  i'm serious.

but now i'm alive.  i'm alive for now.  i feel like the girl who told the principal the grim reaper tried to finger-bang me in home ec.  that doesn't even make sense, but i am trying to illustrate a 15th century concept with a 20th century example of the boy who cried wolf.

i don't know if i necessarily feel that way 100%, but a little bit, enough to examine it here for a few paragraphs. you see i'm not supposed to be here.  but i am.  until i'm not.  this is the new normal.  immunotherapy bi-weekly "indefinetely" and all the trimmings that come with manipulating one's immune system.  which gratefully for the most part i am able to tolerate.  my dystopia.  except this is not an imaginary realm i live in, this is my reality my new normal.  i am a soldier on leave from the battles of the melanomas, but cannot leave because my body is the battlefield.  and like most survivors of high stakes stress, i am finding it difficult to reassimilate and make sense of it all.

but don't cry for me argentina just because i am a toddler who has baggage.  i just might live long enough to see the tv premiere of a writer, director and actor who married his toddler step-daughter, here's a sneak peek: