Please know I’m giggling like an idiot at the title of this post. Tootie-too!
Alright, enough shenanigans. This is serious business. Get it together, people.
Here’s what is up: I’m trying to keep it together myself. Last week was not a good week at all, and this coming week is Dad’s Chemo Week (registered trademark symbol here), so it isn’t looking well, either. Plus, he gets his second PET/CT scan done on Wednesday to see if the cancer has either been all “whoa now, what’s this chemo shit and why haven’t us cancer cells just straight up annihilated this guy yet?” or “ha ha, cancer: 1, Dan: 0!” I’m…well, I’m expecting the latter. I’m not hopeful at all. This is definitely a defense mechanism on my part–expect the absolute worst and hopefully be pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong.
I hope the chemo is working. I hope the nightmarish hell my dad is going through is paying off. I hope the oncologist will tell us there hasn’t been any advancement in his cancer and my dad is giving those mutated cells a giant “fuck you!!” But, we also must be realistic here. He has terminal cancer. Shortly after his surgery in November, he had a CT scan that showed cancer in his lower abdomen and a few questionable spots on his liver and lungs. A month later he had another one done to stage the disease, and in that short time, more cropped up, so this stuff is not messing around. It’s metastasizing. Let’s just hope the chemo has slowed the process, but I’m extremely doubtful of that. Am I being too pessimistic? Oh, probably, but like I mentioned in the previous paragraph, I think it’s better to have zero expectations and assume it’s not working at all. If anyone has a better suggestion as to how to deal with this, I’m all ears, man.
If I may be selfish for a moment (isn’t that new and different?), I truly hope I can deal with this impending sense of doom better and not do like I did two weeks ago and came down with a horrendous case of the fuckits. I threw my hands up in resignation toward going to the gym and eating well and I shamefully admit I turned to alcohol for a few days, which is something I hadn’t done in a long while. I handled myself poorly. I didn’t really care, which is a very, very slippery slope that I’ve found myself on countless times before. I slip and falter and then decide I’ve fucked up so there’s no point in correcting myself and I let myself keep fucking up until I get so goddamn disgusted with myself, that I have a “come to Jesus” talk and grasp to regain control. I refuse to let this happen this week. I mean, yes, I’m under stress, but compared to what my dad is suffering? Jesus Christ, E. Perspective is a helluva thing sometimes. Comparatively speaking, I’m equating my paper cut to my father’s gunshot wound.
Again, I know I’m being hard in myself. It’s like, my thing. Some people are double-jointed or can touch the tip of their nose with their tongue; I beat myself up for funsies. It’s part of my charm. If I were a superhero, I’d be Self-Deprecating Girl! Who has the power to make herself feel like poop in a single bound? Why, Self-Deprecating Girl, of course! My costume would be really cool. No capes, though.
So, I’m going to be proactive in not allowing myself to face plant again. Feeling overwhelmed, E? Take a deep breath and chill out a minute. Have you gone to the gym yet today? No? Perhaps you should work out your feelings by releasing some endorphins. You know that always makes you feel better. And it does, too. Don’t make up an excuse to not go, either. Get your butt to the gym, crank up the power jams, and get sweaty. DO IT.
Having said that, I haven’t been yet today. I let myself sleep in this morning, something I haven’t done in a long time. I did wake up around 6 a.m., and considered staying up, but then I told myself to go back to bed, which I did, and slept another two and a half hours. It was lovely.
Okay then. This week is going to blow, but I won’t let it get to me again. I got this shit. And same to any of you who may be struggling–you got this, boo. I believe in you.
Now, off to the gym to get ridiculously sweaty. Please enjoy your Sunday, as well. Okay? Okay.
As always, thanks for reading.