Friday, 29 August 2014

And then what happened? I didn't die.

With meds up more nausea more exhaustion more random blehhh and flavours of aural or certainly postictal effects that can really disable your life as if it wasn't disabling enough to have the electric zoom surge problem caused by the invisible tyrant burrowed away behind the stupid spiders of blood vessels in the brain in the first place. I was deemed stable (phew!) after last scan earlier this month but the woman in next cubicle during my pre-scan IV hook-up had just been whipped in the face with the news of a need for full body scanscanscan because her cancer (which was elsewhere in body, not from brain, blood-brain barrier keeps it in skull, hers a different non-brain cancer) had spread wide and unexpected (tho this was just discovered - interesting but bloody terrifying christ they try to make it sound like it's a good thing) and there she was weeping and Death staring at her and how fun and pretty it is to be surrounded with the colourful memento mori of the Day of the Dead in my flat when Death just looked her in the face and said, Ha, Your Chemo Failed, Lady. I have looked at Death before and Death is not glowskull and candies with flowers and also not some hooded thing with sickle it's an endless swirling cluster of ugly orange stars and no eyes just the sound of a record player winding down to piss all and the darkest sound ever and when it stares at you to say Hi, I'm Here, You're About To Get To Know Me, it's the most disgusting gutpuke throatclench sensation - nevermind the mere abstract concept of, Oh No, Oh Shit, I ... Don't Quite Know What That Means Yet - but really really feeling it and that was the first time I was nearly shaking when I went into the magnet because it was someone else breaking down near me while I knew I'd still be okay for the next little while. Survivor's guilt, anyone? Nauseous, more tired from meds, the effects of tissue scarring (of post-op brain) kicking in at last and rendering previous dosage suddenly completely redundant and taking me back to the huge debilitating electrical storms that I haven't had since 2008 but I'll still be okay. But always thinking of those Equal Opportunities forms you have to fill out during job application processes where I have to tick the box for invisible disability but there's no box for Death it isn't visible at all I know that's cheezy but what do you do when it gets closer, like for that poor weeping woman who I hope can escape it again. It's there on those forms kids: invisible box for Death but not everybody has to tick it yet including me.

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