You know those days, when you just want to crawl back into bed but can’t because of “obligations”. When I heard I had a relapse a few weeks ago, I thought, “Hey, this’ll be cake. I’ve kicked cancer once, I can kick it twice.” I don’t know why it’s so hard this time. I mean, I don’t even feel that gross from the chemo… it’s nothing I can’t handle. Then why am I so upset?
Someone called me a Cancer Survivor the other day, at the hospital. I nearly punched the unsuspecting person in the face. I felt like I was being patronized, like an eight year old being taught how to read, but has known how to since she was three. Makes me think back to my “Voices of Survivors” written word that I wrote, but has sat in my inbox with edits for about a month. For those of you who don’t know the project that Lynn Lane is the creator and producer of, then shame! Voices of Survivors is a short documentary filmed by Lynn, and it’s from the mouths of actual cancer “survivors” defining what they think is a “survivor”. (This is why I’m using a copious amounts of quotes, because there isn’t one definition of survivor – it’s different for everyone.) There is also a section for written statements, ranging from 400-2000 words on the subject. Mine is a bit long, at 1600ish words, but it sure as hell gets my point across.
Anyways, back to the person. They didn’t know I was upset, but I did hold myself back from a verbal and physical abuse. I just smiled, said thank you for the kind words, and went off on my way. I thought that, by having a relapse during the school year, then more people would be involved and then I’d have some sort of “cancer experience” that I missed out on the first time. How stupid does that sound? I can’t believe I’m actually typing it, let alone thinking it. I talked about this in my Livestrong video, about feeling alone and physically being alone, and of how much it sucked. But now that more people know and are getting involved, I almost wish it was the summer again, and that people weren’t around at all. Apparently there is no pleasing me.
(Forgive me, I’m just kind of typing what I think, and I know it’s disjointed… welcome to the world of how I think.) Last night I was so upset that I couldn’t sleep for hours, and my roommate took pity on me and sat up with me for a bit. I feel like my faith is being ripped from me, like having cancer once wasn’t enough, so our vengeful God has given it to me again. I’m like a child who’s gotten in trouble twice for the same thing, but still doesn’t know what she’s done. It’s not fair! *stomps* Yes, it’s my own version of a digital temper-tantrum, but God DAMMIT I fucking deserve it this once, don’t I? I’m tired of being everyone’s dumping ground for their own problems. What about MY problems, people? Does cancer look easy to you, like I’m coasting the fuck through it, so hey, why not we tell Kristin all these problems we’re having because she has her shit together. Well, I don’t. I have no idea what I’m doing. In relation to my cancer, I do, simply because I’ve been here before, but for fuck’s sake, I do have my own problems I have to work through. I don’t give a flying fuck what your boyfriend said to you last week that made you feel fat and unloved. I’m dying. Let me have my pity party for once! Let me cry and break things and wail about how life isn’t fair, BECAUSE IT ISN’T. When you’ve got cancer too, please, come join my pity party and then unload on me with your problems, because at least then we’ll have something in common. But until then, GO AWAY. Take your stupid problems with you, and unload them on someone else.
/steps off tantrum box/
Apparently I really needed that. I mean, I had the tantrum in real life too, but I feel a bit better. /end pity party. I’m still not fixing your problems for you, so if you have one, run the other direction before I squeeze your brains out your nostrils. I fucking hate cancer. It has absolutely ruined my life. RUINED. I should have graduated by now, and have a fucking job, but nooooo, I’ve been put back TWO BLOODY YEARS in school, with no end in sight. I’m not made of money, Cancer. I have to still pay out of state tuition (that’s another rant for another day), plus my insurance company keeps denying claims and raising my rate. Now that I’ll be 26 in November, my rate goes up to the next level anyways (the 26-35 level or something), plus the special “Cancer Tax” that most health insurance companies add.
Fuck you, cancer. I so totally hate you. If you were a person, I’d swear you off as a mortal enemy, and I’d put out a hit on you. *growls*