Random Emotions

If someone is reading this, I thank you.  I don't know if anyone really reads or pays attention, or even thinks about some of the stuff I write.  Opening people's thought processes and perhaps helping them view things in a minute change of light would be nice but, I don't know no one really says anything.

Don't expect a happy, serious, uplifting, courageous, point of view of knowing I am dying.  No laughter this time.  At the moment I don't have any to share.  Lots of people with cancer will get to this point at one time or another.  Maybe it just took more for me.  OH, and please if you are offended by cussing, well, you may just want to pass this one up.  This will be one that is raw emotion, no filter.

Had the 24 hour chemo Thursday.  Took the pump off Friday, felt pretty good.  Woke up Saturday, feeling ok, kinda rough, but gotta live life.  I went to a Toastmasters, and was there maybe 20 minutes before I had to leave.  Sat in the refreshment area for another 20 minutes till I was sure I was ok to drive home.  Lost three freaking days to nausea and exhaustion.  I don't mean the sleep another 15 minutes.  I mean the type where your body says fuck you you aint' doing shit.

Anyone who has been to my home knows I like it neat and tidy, my oasis.  My idea of doing anything for the past few days was opening a can of soup, draining the broth in a bowl, nuking it,  eating part of it and be happy that I put the bowl and can on the counter rather than dropping it.

What does it mean that I am told I am brave?  Hell, I don't know.  I have no choice in the matter.  I pulled the short stick on life.  SIX fucking times.  Seriously, once wasn't enough, I just had to make sure that it was as bad as I thought.

Brave, yeah right.  Bullshit.  I would say I made this bed, so now I have to lay in it, but I didn't, life made it, but I still have to lay in it.

Graceful?  Courageous? Dealing with dignity?  How is that, someone please explain to me.  Because I laugh?  I have no choice.  Crying isn't an option.  Shit I remember the last time I really cried, and no one  that was around knew what to do or how to react.  Come to think of it, I don't know exactly how to react to someone crying.

So many think I have my shit together.  Or that I have my little ducks in a row.  Those little bastards are flying everywhere and shitting on everything.

I am going to die sooner rather than later.  Wrapping your head around something like that isn't the easiest thing to do.  Although, I have had since 2003 and several trial runs to do it.  Nothing like it is inoperable, and spreading to make trying new chemotherapy sound appealing.  Hell yeah, use me as your ginneau (shit I can't spell that) pig, I'll give it a go. Maybe the cancer won't spread!  You see the line rounding up around the building.  A huge line of one.  ME.  At least where I am.

Dying.  I don't want to die.  I want to find a fucking job and work, pay my bills, and make my children proud of me.  That is what is most important to me.  I want them to be proud of who I became, not the lost idiot who had no back bone I was.  I want them to have more memories of me that are fun and good.  I don't want to go.  Not yet.  I am not ready.  But it is something I have to face every day.  I have always been proud of them.  Even when I had my head up my ass.  I knew I did two things in my life right. 

I want my sisters to learn to communicate better, rather than the knee jerk reaction of lashing out when they think they have been wrongs.  Temper has always been a bad thing in the Caputo family.  Problem is it flares fast, and lasts.  They need to step back and ask, why did you say that?  Or at least think before they speak or type.  The hardest thing in the world to do.  You have no idea how many times I have typed something just to delete it after I calmed down.

All my friends I want to know that I am horrid at  communication.  Always have been unless it is the written word, and then I am bad because I forget to mail stuff.  The only person I ever was 100% jolly on the spot when mailing something was when Jim Sr. was in college.  I knew how many days it took a letter to get to him and back, and I would read each letter, write and run to the nearest mailbox with the soonest pick up.

Honestly, I am not ignoring you.  I think about my friends constantly.  I know actions speak louder than words.  To be honest, I don't have the words to express what friendship means to me.  I have always been that odd ball loner kid.  I quake in my boots in social situations.  I actually am introverted.  I hide it well.  Huh, I was that odd ball loner kid, and I am an odd ball adult.  Lately, it seems that I am living on something that is starting to become an island.  Everyone is moving.  One of the reasons I made myself go to Toastmasters, I am becoming that crazy lady with cancer and two dogs.  Guess I will have to see what Senior Activities there are.

Back to having my shit together and dying.  I don't have my shit together.  I am the most unorganized, lost soul I know.  (Please don't take the lost soul religiously).

I only started pulling my head out of my preverbal ass back in 2008.  I was becoming a person I didn't like.  Rescue can do that to you if you stay too long in it.  I stayed too long I think.

So what happened in 2008?  I got a call.  There was a job opening in BaseTel.  I said ok, well after I asked my ex, turned the shelter over to a great group of people who are running it.  (I literally stepped away, thick headed ownership issues).

Even got divorced in 2010.  Hope he is happy with whoever he is with.  Seriously.  Everyone deserves to be happy in this life.  As long as they are good to each other and good together.

Over the years here, I have paid off bills, helped others anonymously, even had a nest egg.  (Had is the active word here.)  I thought the worst for me was when the contract ended and I lost my job.  Been looking for one ever since.  Phone interviews, even an in person couple, but no job.

Guess I was wrong when I thought the worst happened.  Now I need to figure a way to get a job, pay bills, do chemo that makes me sick, afford insurance (car and health), keep a roof over my head and food on the table.  Not much.  People tell me not to worry about money.  Well, that is hard.  Especially when it pays for the things that keep you alive.  Even if the time is limited.  I think the one thing that all cancer patients worry about is money.  I couldn't imagine being faced with the possibility of being homeless and having cancer.  Even if you have someone you can move in with, cancer wears  on everyone, and you could soon become that anchor around someone's neck.

At the moment I don't feel as raw as I did when I started.  I've calmed down, there are still lots of things I need to address, but right now, I don't want to.  But I can't let that become a habit.  Not doing something.

Do me a favor.  In the comments section pick a number 1-52.  The first six numbers that are different I'll invest a dollar for a lottery ticket.

What will I do if it wins?  Pay bills, support sarcoma research, random acts of kindness to strangers, help family and friends.