I just spent 10 hours in bed. Hfs I can barely move.
What finally got me to wake up (after waking up several times, saying fuck it and rolling over to go back to sleep) was a very realistic dream that Trent Reznor had died.
Talk about nightmares.
It was so bad that I had to wake up and check for myself – which dream me was doing and finding nothing but confirmation. Real me checked Twitter, and when that wasn’t enough, I checked the news.
I keep thinking about all the things I’ll trade for cancer. My kids’ health. Having a decent home to move into. Trent Reznor healthy and happy and cranking out music.
I’m in a bad way, no sense trying to deny it, not even to myself. The wait to find out if I do have cancer is killing me, right along with my lower back.
I’m getting whiplash from going back and forth: yes I do, what else can it be; no I don’t I’m just being drama queen.
I think the doctor thinks I have cancer. I’ve nitpicked the conversation until it’s a pile of splinters on the table and I can’t find any other conclusion. “Let’s find out for sure” seems pretty cut and dried.
I also think he thinks it’s early stage. That’s the only plus I can find.
I keep thinking of how I begged him to get the car fixed and come home so I could go to the doctor.
I keep thinking he has a whole different kind of body count these days.
That’s another thing I think I’d trade having cancer for right about now. That’s how much I hate him these days.
I’ll go ahead and say it here, I’m just shouting into a mostly empty void so why not:
I wish I had someone to help me through this.
Oh sure, I have the friend who will go to the appointment with me, the daughter that will watch the son while I’m in the hospital.
What I don’t have is someone to do the dishes for me. Cook me some rice because I simply suck at it. Pull out the folder of banking papers and say hey let’s knock this out.
I need a partner.
My loneliness is killing me, too.
Gratitudes are in very short supply right now, but there are a few:
I’m grateful for Trent Reznor’s music – and that he isn’t dead
I’m grateful for Chester’s Puffcorn, even if I can’t stop eating it.
I’m grateful I was able to vote against the Orange Buffoon.
I’m very grateful for this computer.