Midnight
I did it. I made it to the last episode of Sex and the City without knowing what happened before. I knew there was something with Paris, but that was it. I knew Samantha got cancer but I didn’t know that she and her boyfriend shaved their heads together and I didn’t know there was the scene of them eating popsicles at chemo or her with the hot-flash, wig-yanking speech. I think it would have annoyed me before, all the cancer drama, but now, it was just ridiculously cathartic.
I feel clingy and sad and scared. Despite the SATC accomplishment. Everytime T leaves I cry. Thank god we’re approaching the two year mark and I’ve got cancer or this might send the wrong sort of message. I’m scared of maybe not being able to have babies and of dying and of this coming back. I ate chicken today. Animal protein is heavy but tasty. Oddly buoying.
And in the morning (Wednesday morning) I dunno. I have a schedule. Breakfast with J, appointment with a urologist (mysterious bladder pain is another chemo symptom), then research for work. Do you know any voluntarily celibate yogi-ish people? I need some. I also need the names of socially responsible companies. The ones that are really doing good, treat their employees well and put out cool, non-hemp products. Not the ones that do a clean sweep of the rainforest and then donate money to the Sierra Club and run a Super Bowl ad bragging about it that’s triple the contribution. The sincere ones.
Then I’m going to buy a cheap cabinet to help my kitchen. And try not to cry about phrases like “early menopause” that seem to clink their way into my brain like poison pennies. Oy, enough. Time for bed. Promise to be funnier or more positive soon.
Also, the urologist got me out of my support group and it’s the happiest I’ve been all day.
