Best Get A Run At It

I went to an appointment with the DOCTOR yesterday and there was a little glimmer in all this. The nastiness hasn't spread. The battery of tests came back negative. That was the first five minutes. The next forty five minutes were spent discussing the side effects of chemotherapy. Yes, chemo is medicine, more specifically, a cocktail of medicine they infuse through mass quantities of blood through a port (that I had installed) near my Vena Cava. Chemo, by its very nature, is poison. Its dispatched to kill the cancer, no holds barred, take no prisoners, spare no life. That's why my hair will fall out by August 21st. That's why I'll spend time I can't get back being shot up with white blood cell booster. My risk for infection is high. My heart could explode (I am told this doesn't happen...much). I have an armload of prescriptions, two of which I can actually pronounce. I was told to go out and get stool softener and anti-diarrheal. Ok dude, which one is it? "We can't be sure," Well, when will I get sick? "We can't be sure," Ok, will these drugs work on me to prevent throwing up all over my pets? "We can't be sure," What about these mouth sores you keep mentioning? "We can't be sure," And so on and so on. I swear I was just going to rip out my hair yesterday! Leave it in a nice little pile in the waiting room.
So I'm terrified. Yep. It's 7:30 am on a Thursday and I'm terrified again by what I don't know. And it sucks because all the well thought out questions and advance planning and research about chemo therapies and their side effects made sense on paper but today they will start happening to me. My body is getting an elephants dose of poison. My body will hurl back up everything I put in it. My strong, wolverine-like stout little self will start being fragile and I can't fucking stand that!! I wasn't sick till right NOW! And this is the part when I start getting better. As a wise man once said when I was terrified long ago of some ridiculously trivial thing "Best get a run at it if yr scared..." So there may be a little tidbit on the news tonight "Strange Girl Runs Through Door To Chemo Infusion Room, story at 11..". Every day is a series of navigational maneuvers in worlds completely foreign to me. I usually revel in this sort of thing, except in this case, some one has blindfolded me, shaved my head, cut my Achilles tendons, and said
"Go fight!". My initial reaction is "Go fuck yourself, you go fight! " To which a gravelly voice booms down from the heavens.......
"Ain't nobody here gonna go there for you....you've got to go there by yourself..."
Cancer really pisses me off!
XO