"A cancer is not only a physical disease. It is a state of mind." ~ Michael Baden
My next to last chemo treatment is scheduled for next Tuesday. This should be a relatively happy time since the end is now definitely in sight. Unfortunately, the part of my brain that's keeping track of how bad I feel is screaming at me, "Don't go! Don't go!" As if I had a choice.
It's gotten really hard for me to keep putting this out of my mind. I was so good at that for such a long time. Fuck.
My toenails are turning black. One of my thumbnails is also turning back. The last time I was at the hospital, I had a discussion with a patient (which I did not wish to have) who told me that her nails turned black and fell off. Apparently the good news is that, when that happens, it doesn't hurt. Yay.
Just in case my week wasn't already crappy, my brother in law is spending the night at my house tonight. I'm spending the night at my mom's condo. I just don't have the stamina to deal with him.
Hell, the truth is that I'd be going to my mom's condo, no matter what the circumstances. I really don't like "Baby Hughey," as my therapist likes to call him. He reminds me a lot of my dad, although my dad was psychotic. Baby Hughey hasn't worked in the past 30 years, was spongeing off his mother's social security payments when she was alive.
Somehow he's managed to find someone else willing to support him. He's living in a shelter, but the rent is $250 a month. How does that qualify as a shelter? I thought those were usually free. Oh well. The important thing is that he's not moving in with me.
Lately I find myself thinking about what great times I used to have in high school and college. That's just an indication of how bad things are now. Even worse, I just searched for images of my first boyfriend. I found one. It's hard to connect him with the young man I loved. This is just sad.
Okay. Enough whining and complaining. I'm getting on with the day.
