Fuck Cancer

It’s been a month and a half since I first wrote about my having stage 4 cancer in multiple organs. I was all peace, love, and Oreos, ready to face the end with grace. 

I thought you’d like to see what has transpired since then, with health insurance being dicks, moving 2000 miles into my parents’ house, losing all my hair, permanent diarrhea, and getting hand tremors from the chemo that keep me from writing or my artwork. 

Fuck cancer. 

It changes everything and everyone in your entire life. People treat you like you’re about to die, asking about advanced directives (instructions on what measures you want taken for when you’re on the verge of death), who your 401k goes to, and even who will take care of your dog. And no one likes it when you put your hands over your ears and scream I’M NOT DYING YET. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. 

Forgive me, I don’t mean to undo all the happy thoughts of my first post about cancer when I said I want to face what could be my final year with joy and gratitude. 

I’m just saying… what, I don’t know. I can’t even think of what to say. 

This is a lot fucking harder than I expected. And no one expects cancer to be easy. 

I just didn’t expect it to be this hard.