I look in the mirror and all I see
Is the once beautiful young girl I used to be
My body was healthy, my mind was strong
And life was good when nothing was wrong
As I grew up it came to pass
The once young girl would surely not last
As my health starts to crumble, and life a continued rush
It seems way too early to return to dust
But this is my fate, my destiny
The woman in the mirror staring back at me
She is older and weak, and her skin is so light
Her body has finally decided to take flight
It grows old and weak, undeniably not strong
I just can’t accept it – all this is wrong
The sickness and pain that haunts me at night
Has now joined me in all of daylight
I can feel it coming, the slow start of death
I dont want to go, please, please keep me…
Please keep me, alive.
“At times I have hated myself – my body and the ingenious way it has figured out how to die – then got over it. But I’m not over it, and I don’t know how to get there.”
This will likely be a short post, and a tiny warning…it may sound more like a rant than anything else. And you may be offended so let me just address that right now. If you are offended at something I write (or something I do not write), get over it. I am opinionated and passionate, and I am dying. I have zero control over anything in my life and have realized that I really have never had control over anything, haha! It was an illusion I created for myself. And if I could do it over with my current knowledge – I would do everything differently. Almost everything.
I have been reading about death and dying..bogs from other people that are going through something similar to me. And so far what I have read has really just…well so far I am not impressed. I am reading about how well they have accepted their fate and all of the love and fru-fru stuff. I have read nothing about the pure anger and emotional pain. It is not all unicorns and rainbows people! In fact, I am angry and sad, and angry, and sad, then ok, then sad and so on and so forth. In the past year not once have been “everything will be fine and things happen the way they happen and I just want to spend my time with my family”. Not once. Not yet.
Does this make me a terrible person? I hope not. But if it does then I guess that is my reality, in addition to dying. I don’t WANT to die. Who does?? I don’t WANT to sit here and worry about my three -year old daughter and how much this will hurt her, but I do. I don’t WANT to figure out how to find comfort in providing comfort for my husband, and how this will destroy the dreams we had of growing old together. I WANT to change it. I WANT it to go away. I WANT to have the power to do something about it and I WANT cancer to just go away for goodness sakes. And I am not getting anything I want. And I’m pissed. And at times I have hated God, then got over it. At times I have hated my doctors, then got over it. At times I have hated myself – my body and the ingenious way it has figured out how to die – then got over it. But I’m not over it, and I don’t know how to get there.
A counselor, maybe? Doubtful. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I have been in healthcare for 30 years (since I was 16-years old), I know what is happening and what is going to happen to my body. And I know there is nothing I can do about it. And I know that being angry is just a waste of my precious damn time. And I know that regardless of what I feel this is going to happen no matter how bad I am against the whole idea of being a terminally ill patient. Talking about these intimate things to a stranger with more letters behind their name than I have will doubtfully make a huge difference in how I view the facts. BUT, one never knows. Maybe I better start looking for one.
I am likely angry because I am scared. Most emotions – or at least the negative ones – are sparked by fear. I could go on and on about this and continue the rant…but I am certain it is all coming out wrong and that the impression I am giving is of a spoiled, self-centered, egotistical stingy brat who happens to have cancer. That is not who I am. But…how do I show you…how do I make some sort of damn difference in someone’s life – anyone’s life? How do I hurry up and figure out what my legacy is so I can place it somewhere in the universe and leave my heart print? Do I have one?
My heart is just plain broken. I don’t know how to die.