The Cancer Circus

Well, wasn't that exciting - the Cancer Circus came to town. There was a flurry of activity, the death defying feats, crowds of strangers and a lot of things I wouldn't normally eat. (Things that leave you feeling a little sick) The Cancer Circus has left town. All that remains is the trampled ground where all the craziness took place. That ground will probably recover over time. It will just take time. The reality of living with the trampled ground every day is a little devastating. I have to admit, I didn't really like the circus . . . but I got swept up in it anyhow. I didn't enjoy my time in the shiny spotlight - but now that the spotlight is gone, everything is a bit dull and tarnished. That cancer circus became my reality and identity over the last year plus. Now that it's "over", the daily reality is . . . less than glamorous.

I have to take a maintenance drug for five years. (One month down, only 59 to go!) Things don't quite work like they used to - certain things work overtime, confused by all the changes. My radiated side is still physically hot to the touch. The effects of radiation can keep on going for a year, like a little glowing Eveready Bunny! But ironically, an Everyready Bunny with no energy. The Neveready Bunny. Other things don't work at all. I am hoping that they are just dormant, and will come back with time. The chemo that flipped me into menopause is over. The maintenance drug has just started, and it accelerates the menopause into hyper-drive. Every symptom you hear about in radio and television ads for drugs to relieve menopausal symptoms . . . I have. Times 10. I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind. Hot flashes, mood swings, weight gain, night sweats (Don't sweat the petty things, and don't pet the sweaty things.) insomnia, dry skin and rapid aging.

I have distinctly lost my sense of humor about the whole thing. That really pisses me off! Humor is power. I'm in a place right now where I feel like I have no power. There was power in identifying and actively fighting the disease. There was power in being able to laugh at it and write about it. There was power in all of the lavish attention. Now I'm just tired and overwhelmed and guilty. Guilty? I have only officially been Catholic for a small portion of my life, and yet, I seem to have the "guilt" concept honed and fine-tuned down to within a inch of my existence. What is that all about? Seriously - let me know if you have thoughts or answers on that topic!

I know . . . waa, waa, waa - poor, poor pitiful me. I am beyond sick of being around myself. I can't write, laugh, or be of any use to anyone in this state! Is it just my imagination . . . or am I writing? Maybe there is a light at the end of this tunnel! Dear God, I do hope so. Logically, it stands to reason, that this is just a phase. A phase that I will look back on and think . . . Wow, was that sad, bag of cottage cheese really me?" You know what? FUCK YOU CANCER!!! Fuck you, and what you have done to me . . . and my family . . . and my fabulous sense of humor! I am so angry right now, I could spit acid! Heaven help the poor soul who irritates me right now! Anger is gooooood. At least I am feeling something other than nothing! I'd rather feel anger and pain, rather than this deadness that has settled over me. (Insert primal scream here) Am I a cliche, or what? I'll take it.