I'm a Loser, Baby

I need to fess up: life isn't all that great with radiation. Well, anyway, it seems to be getting worse.

I was told by various health care professionals that I could look forward to life not sucking as much with radiation, that it's much better than chemo. Sure, I might get a little tired and some skin irritations, but compared to chemo, it's not that bad.

I'm finding out that that's a load of crap. I'm pretty fucking tired, and because I had all these expectations that it would be better, I'm also getting kinda depressed. I'm frustrated, I'm pissy, I'm sick of it. So yeah, I feel like ass. And I feel like I failed.

The gentle side of me says, "You didn't fail. You're still fighting." But the loud side of me says, "Suck it up. It isn't as bad as chemo, stop whining. Don't be a loser. Drink more coffee and get to work." So I feel stuck and sick to my stomach that I'm so exhausted and don't want to do anything but lie in bed.

My parents were scheduled to come stay with us on March 19th, but things have gotten so bad that Henry asked me if maybe they should come earlier. Thankfully, they do want to be here as much as I need them to be here, so they are coming next Wednesday. I am thankful for their support, but still, I feel like I've failed.

Surgery has been scheduled for April 15th. While I joke about and make light of getting new boobies, I'll also admit that I'm freaked out. I mean, sure, my boobs aren't the greatest pair of jugs to have graced the planet, but still, they have been a source of pleasure for me (lovely sensory nerves) and a source of food for my kids. Aesthetically, I will have decent boobs (I hope), but what will I feel? And it's going to be weird to be nippleless for six months, until I get new ones tattooed on. Weird, weird, weird.

I'm back to where I started: cancer fucking sucks.