The Struggle

I maxed out today. My thoughts are scrambled and my limbs are weak. The chemo that is killing my tumor is poisoning my brain and weakening my body, and I can’t keep my straights thought. See what I mean?

I cried at work. Intermittent periods of tears and frustration followed by blank stares. Started in the department lounge. Took it to the bathroom. Moved it to the grade-level principal’s office. Finished at lunch. Got the hell outta work and drove to Chick Fil A for a diet lemonade. Came home and…and…what the hell have I been doing for the past two hours? See what I mean?

I literally can’t even.

And it has taken me, like, 20 minutes to write this. I’m stuck on the phrase “intermittent periods of tears and frustration followed by blank stares.” Will the reader know that I mean I’m delivering the blank stares, not receiving them? Words are hard right now, and so are thoughts.

I think my current life situation is best-symbolized by my right eyebrow. There are nine hairs just holdin’ on for dear life/just strugglin’ so hard. Things fall apart; the brows cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon my face.

OK, so now it’s been about an hour since I started this post. Praise the lord that this week is short and that next week is spring break AND THAT THIS WEDNESDAY IS MY LAST CHEMO. Just one more round of poison. I think that’s why I’m so emotionally drained today–> because the end is so near. When I was 10 I was on the swim team (I never liked sports), and at one of the meets I had to swim a long distance. I gave up at the very end/just stopped swimming. And cried. In the middle of the pool. I don’t want to do that this time. I want to keep swimming.

30 more hours

1 more chemo

9 eyebrows

Surely some revelation is at hand.