13 hours until my next treatment.
Today a friend asked me if I feel like I am getting better, and I am not sure. I guess I have become so guarded with my hopes. So many of my hopes have been thrashed so I hope less and less. I figure out what the end-point is and set to work to get there. I trust that whether with this treatment or another I will get well again. But, I am low on hope that this treatment will work- maybe because I am scared that it won't and I don't want to go through disappointment.
I should get more hope. Like orphan Annie I need to sit up and stare into the stars at night when it is quiet and sing about the things I want. She sings about the parents she wants..."Betcha he reads; Betcha she sews; Maybe she's made me A closet of clothes!" I would sing about the tumor cells loosing the fight to live inside me... "betcha they're scared, Maybe they're dying and I will grow old!"
I need help rewriting this song. Anyone want to help me write the musical about my life?
But, the answer is YES, I think I am getting better.
I am better able to put up a fight. I am better prepared to handle this than when I first found out. I am better.
1 comment:
You are totally amazing. If I had a team, I'd want you on it.
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