Each time I was diagnosed I had that feeling, you know that one, the oh shit gut feeling. It is either my sixth sense or I have gotten really good at reading the body language and tone of voice of my doctors.
Well, I finally got to talk with my daughter, and since my son and sisters already were told, I was going to send messages through Facebook to my friends, which can get a bit over whelming. I could have sent a mass message, but that bugs the crap out of me, because even if you tell people don't respond to it they do and everyone get the response and it just ends up getting people upset.
So I posted on FB. I think people are making a mountain out of a mole hill. I mean, I have been beating the odds since 2003. In reality it was bound to get me.
My son told me in reality, other people's reality, I did drop a mountain on them. He is right.
The logic behind my thought is I have had a very long while to accept and adjust to my mortality. In 2003 I was resuscitated, and in reality I was brought back from the dead. That kind of gives you the realization your life can and will end, eventually.
I feel uncomfortable with people. Always have. I am an introvert with extrovert tendencies. Well there are a few I am comfortable with. Part of it is I have foot in mouth issues. I open my mouth and sometimes what comes out is not appropriate (language), or shocking, or morbid, you get the idea.
Add to that I have body issues. Not really the body per say, but when I look in the mirror, I see how cancer has aged me. The wrinkles have really compounded over the years. In 2011 I had some but now, they are deeper. More prominent. I know it is vain, but I don't feel that old.
Cancer ages you. No matter what anyone says. It ages your body, your face, your viewpoint. Your attitude. Maybe that is why I am the way I am. I used to have patience with games people play. I don't anymore. Just tell me the truth and be done with it. Don't sugar coat it, just say it.
That being said, having terminal cancer and looking for a job blows fucking chunks. I hate it. I shouldn't say anything about the cancer because they can find reasons not to hire you that have nothing to do with "cancer". You are over qualified, under qualified, they promoted from within because the person has experience. And NEVER tell them you are terminal.
No I haven't done that. Legally, I don't have to. My health is none of their business. I need to live, and it takes money to keep a roof over your head, and pay for food, not to mention that life saving health insurance.
I need to keep health insurance. Right now I have it through COBRA. Thanks to my former employer, I can keep it for another 12 months. I have been looking for a job for a year now. Sucks. I know, apply for disability. I did, but even if they rush it, I have at least 6 months to wait for a decision. OH, COBRA was cheaper than the health care act.
There are so many emotions running through me right now it is crazy. At this moment in time I feel crazy. I am angry, touched, depressed, happy, no not angry PISSED off, there are times I want to just jump down someone's throat, but that wouldn't be right. Other times I can look at things and just smile and shake my head.
Right now I just want to scream at some people. What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop whining about that damn purse you can't afford. Stop whining about things not going your way. Well shit head, welcome to life. Some days it fucking sucks. There are so many people out there that don't have a roof over their head, or food on the table - you are whining because things didn't go your way, oh boo hoo. Put on your big kid pants and suck it up buttercup. Start looking at the good things in your life and be grateful! Do you have people who care? Someone that loves you? Roof over your head? Food? Job? Ability to get from point A to point B? Then be grateful, and change things you are not happy about. I am going to die, and I can't stop it, I can fight it as long as possible, but I can't stop it. I am going to die before my time, so fuck that whiney, pussy ass shit and get off you ass and start living. Stop missing life because you are so concerned about shit you don't have.
Yeah, I am angry. Very angry. I want a job, a good paying job with health insurance. I don't want to become a burden to my children, even though my daughter kept telling me don't go to hospice when the times comes, she'll take care of me. I don't want to die on my children. Fuck, I don't want to die, I want to work, stay independent and laugh, and complain once in awhile. I want to travel, alone and with my children. I want to be able to travel with my dogs. There is so much in life I want to do, and I will do as much as I can. I want my children to look back and have some great memories of their mom. They may be adults, but they are still my children.
I am angry, very angry. I am also sad. I am in no hurry to leave this plane. There is so much to do, see and experience. I don't want to leave my children. I don't want them to experience the pain and loss. Even though I know it is a part of life, and they have lost their grand parents and know loss. I don't want to be that pain. I don't want to hurt my children.
Shit, I honestly don't want to hurt anyone!!
I want to cry. I never do. I feel a tear or two in the eyes, and the sense of wanting to cry but then it passes. Perhaps it is because I understand the reality of it all.
There is house work to do, and laundry. The dogs to walk and the car needs a bath. I don't feel like doing any of it. Now the depression is starting to roll in. If you haven't realized it, the emotions have rolled through.
I think I am going to stop for now. I will try to be a better blogger. I am going to try to document the Terminal Journey through the blog and artwork. Mixed media, pictures.
Go hug someone, and do something you enjoy. Remember - We are all stories in the end, just make it a good one. ~ The Doctor
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