I don’t want to do this anymore. (I WILL. But I need to express the feelings.)
I don’t want to live in a broken body. I don’t want to be online, sorry, it’s true.
I don’t want to grieve my dad, I want him alive and carrying all his duffel bags around, taking up space in the refrigerator.
I don’t want to lay in bed in the dark, staring at the wall, wondering how my life has come to this.
I especially don’t want to have a fucking PICC line right next to my elbow crease.
What a weird, hard weekend punctuated with some good things.
My life exhausts me.
I want to wake up in 2009 and have a re-do. Decide NOT to publish my cookbook. Not to move back to NYC. I wish I took my nest egg and traveled the world when I was able bodied and could still eat regular food. Get a 9 to 5 job. I say 2009 because they think the ovarian tumors started growing around 2010, and that’s when I had the melanoma too.
Something isn’t right inside of me and they are telling me everything is fine with the PICC line. I’m like:
WHY DOES IT HURT THEN?Read More