The biopsy confirmed that the pea-sized lump S discovered last week is cancer.
Fuck.
WHY couldn’t it be harmless?
I want to be positive. I want to be hopeful. But this feels like the tipping point. Today’s PET scan will reveal any other spots of cancer lurking below the surface. Just let this be isolated…
S is “moving forward” calmly, while I’m quietly falling apart. By no means do I want to die, but with everything in me, I wish this was happening to me instead. It’s a goddamn nightmare being the bystander. The survivor. The one left behind.
I’m so tired of realizing mortality. Bug died when we were 26 years old. She was beautiful and caring, loving and to be married six months from then. We haven’t forgotten the lesson learned from her death yet. We appreciate life. We understand how precious it is. We learned to value every day. We fucking get it, alright?
I may as well be swinging and punching and screaming and cursing in the middle of the ocean. Though, with the energy expelled in doing so, it may be far more productive than composing the turmoil brewing in my chest.
Stop taking my people.
reducerenewrecycle 