Chemo Therapy

It is a daily reckoning. To be faced with your own mortality when you don't feel physically ill is one thing. To be faced with it when feeling physically more ill than you've ever imagined feeling is a new thing. A thing all it's own. Apart even from the reality of death, being forced intellectually to recognize that you will definitely die someday is interesting. Logistically, intellectually I know that Stage 1 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma isn't the thing that will kill me. It is only the thing that brought me here, to this uncomfortable place of reckoning. Chemo, on the other hand...whew. I'm on some serious drugs. Not your run of the mill glass of wine, not a little hit of grass here and there, and not the funny "hahahahahaha, I'm so HIGH on drugs because I just had surgery and I am sending hilarious text messages of my noobs to all of my friends, weeeeee!" type of drugs. No. these are serious fucking drugs. My mind is blown by the level of terrified I can manage to feel. I am devastated beyond any level of depression I have experienced, I am lonely, I am utterly sad and sick and tired. So I take whatever additional medication I need to in order to sit back and close my eyes and drift for a bit. And I sink into it. I sink into every thought and sensation that the present is willing to grant. I sink into the discomfort of the disparity. And that is when I realize that I am in the trenches now. I am in the clutches of the experience. I know that in time will come the glory of this fight. For now I drift.