Not to upset the current trend of funny stories and self-mockery that I have going here... but in the spirit of honest writing (and because I told myself that I'd journal the hard days, because experience has taught me that I'll just block/forget them later), I have to come clean and say that today was a hard day.
I mean, H-A-R-D.
This morning, at about the time that I pureed my last apricot, I had an overwhelming awareness that I am sick. (And I'm not just talking about my twisted sense of humor.)
As I was pouring my last batch of puree into a freezer-safe bag, I had to lean against the kitchen counter to rest. (Yeah, I know. I'm such a wuss that blanching three batches of apricots completely wore me out. Between the sore calves, the stupid scar tissue that gives me a backache and the hernia that makes my stomach hurt if I move the wrong way, I have a hard time standing for over an hour without hurting.)
And as I leaned against the counter and held my back and gave myself a pep talk that I was almost done and could sit down in a few minutes, I realized that I am sick.
I really am sick.
I have cancer.
Today, I am more aware of this than I have been in a long time. Today, I am aware that this could kill me.
These are not thoughts that I usually have. ... Usually, I process more along the lines of "Gosh, I wish my oncologist would hurry up and cure me and then marry me" or "I wonder how much money Nathan Fillion could draw at a fundraiser" or "I sure hope that I don't have to live like this for the rest of my life". But today? Today, all day, I have been incredibly aware that life is short. And that I am sick. And that this could kill me.
Like I said, it's been a hard day.