A Girl in the Curl is tired of dealing with the insurance company, and the State & County
constant fear and I haven’t even seen the people at UCSF yet.
I am not afraid of anything they say or do to me now…I’m afraid of the future. The future! Can you understand what that feels like?
I thought I knew all about cancer, having it hit so close to home so many times. Growing up, watching my mother suffer chemo, and radiation, and then when the cancer came back, how much it took out of her. But for all the compassion and empathy I had for my mom and brother, it’s nothing in order to prepare you for what you actually feel when it’s YOU.
“It’s cancer”
For days the words echoed and rang in my ears as if someone had fired a gun near my head.
I never once gave a rats ass about losing my hair, or was afraid of surgery—I know all about that. What keeps me awake when I should be asleep, what makes me break out in a cold sweat, is the fear of what happens AFTER…and when.
When the fuck will it come again?
Will I be here a year from now?
Five?
Ten?
I don’t like the odds.
I dont’ like the rest of my life.
Cancer survivor—fuck those words.
No one survives it indefinitely—unless you play Russian Roulette, or ride a motorcycle without a helmet, it’s eventually going to come back to your door, and maybe, if you’re lucky, you can hand it another IOU and send it away for another little while…but it will eventually come back to collect.
When.
When.
When.
