I just spent a while crying in my bed, buried under the covers. I hadn't cried like that since the first few days after diagnosis. I've been doing so well...I didn't see that meltdown coming. But I guess I should have... I had been noticing for the past few days that minor things have been making me extremely irritated and/or upset. e.g. I truly almost cried when the Co op was closed, and when my stack of tortillas were so frozen together I couldn't get one out of the package without ripping it, and when my attempt at transferring songs from iTunes to my MP3 player failed. Not being able to find a matching pair of socks made me want to kick something, and getting stuck in the snow on Crosby hill made me want to scream. But I didn't allow myself to cry, or kick, or scream. And I guess I've just been holding it all back for so long that today I couldn't help bursting into tears.
Of course, tortillas falling apart and mismatched socks are not really what I'm so upset about. They are just convenient things to attach my emotions to because it's pretty freaking scary and overwhelming to be crying about cancer instead. But now I am. And mostly, they are tears of anger. I don't want cancer. I don't want go to the hospital. I don't want to have surgery in 5 days. I don't want to open the bill from the hospital that's been sitting on my kitchen table since yesterday. I don't want to start off the new year by being bedridden when I should be on the trapeze instead. I don't want to have to choose between having poison injected into my bloodstream, and risking the surprise return of a much more aggressive cancer if I refuse chemo. I don't want to be talking about cancer anymore. FUCK CANCER.
I guess I need to cry... these tears are long overdue. But I hate crying. And I don't know what to do with myself right now. I have friends I could call, friends who have told me to call them at anytime, but I hate crying on the phone. And I can't decide if I want to be alone or if I want a friend with me now. It's tempting to distract myself with DVDs or books or something, but I know - I've learned the hard way - that that doesn't really help in the long run. The only way to get through these difficult emotions is to just let them run their course. Distracting myself with DVDs right now would just push the tears aside for later, at which time they'd come back twice as strong. So I might as well just sit here and cry now and get it over with. Goddammit, I hate this.
Why do I have to have cancer??? I promised myself I wouldn't be one of "those people" who sits around wailing "WHY ME?!", but...honestly, that's where I'm at right now. This moment will pass, I know, and I'll be strong and optimistic once more...but right now, I am a crying mess and that's just the way it is. I'm scared and I'm mad and I just want to go back to my life the way it was a couple months ago, when I had no idea I had cancer and I felt great and life was happy and good.
The really twisted thing is, I would never have even KNOWN I had cancer if the doctors hadn't told me. I can't feel it, I have no symptoms... I almost wish I DID have symptoms or pain of some kind, because it would make the idea of surgery more palatable right now. Because I've felt GREAT even with this stupid tumor in me, and now it's the TREATMENTS that are going to make me feel like shit. If I were in pain right now, then at least I could be eager for the surgery that would ease that pain. But since I have been feeling so healthy and well, it's so hard to mentally prepare myself for surgery that's going to fuck all that up, and BRING pain instead of alleviating it. I know I know I know the tumor has to be removed, because eventually it could grow bigger and be dangerous and hurt me. But there's a little voice inside of me cruelly wondering if the tumor is the kind that's so slow-growing and non-aggressive that I could go the rest of my long, long life without ever being bothered by it. It's certainly possible, but my rational brain understands that there's no way of knowing and I can't afford to take the risk. But it still SUCKS.
Happy fucking New Year...
It's a few hours later now, and I'm getting better...
I did 45 mins of yoga, and ate some good food, read a few chapters of a novel with a protagonist who has it worse than I do, had some chocolate, read some of the tao... I'm now looking forward to getting a good night's sleep.