I'm just so TIAAAAHRD!!

Having cancer brings many symptoms. Many of them are not fit to be discussed in polite society, but the main one suffered by all is FATIGUE.

I always feel lame when I complain about fatigue--after all, who among any of us isn't tired? Tired nearly ALL the time? You ask how someone is doing, and they'll say, TIRED! I'm SOOOOO tired!! But they still manage to work, do chores, drive in traffic, take care of the kids, cook dinner or buy takeout, walk the dog, go to the gym, climb Mt. Rainier, etc. etc. They continue to lift one leg up after the other and walk toward some semblance of purpose. They continue to have coherent discussions.

The kind of fatigue we suffer is DIFFERENT. We suffer the kind of fatigue where you feel like you've been spinning on the Scrambler amusement park ride for two hours. Then you get off and try to find the nearest cotton candy stand. Not to eat it, but to arrange the sticky stuff on your head, as you lost your wig and/or your head scarf and your baldness is on display for all. Better to look like a pastel bouffanted poodle.

Or, the kind of fatigue where you step off a curb and get trampled by a herd of elephants, which you neither saw nor heard because you're so lost in the foggy web of your own cranial matter. As you pass out, you do remember wishing you could go to the circus later. If you weren't so tired.

But I'm mostly tired of this administration.  Ooh, tossed that one out there, didn't I? Ever since November 9, 2016, we've been faced with constant, unrelenting, displays of hatred, stupidity, ugliness, hypocrisy, corruption and disrespect from this President and his cohorts. Every day, he lies and/or says something unbelievably thoughtless or evil. And his followers cheer and cheer.

It really wears on a decent person after awhile. Makes me feel like, "Why should I want to live, if this is what our country wants to be?"

Such blind acceptance of these rotting shenanigans goes against everything I learned in school and in church (and from my parents and relatives). There, I learned that "cheaters never prosper", lying is the worst, and sinning was something you should avoid at your peril.

In politics and business nowadays, cheaters and liars are the ones who prosper. You're expected to toe a very specific and deceptive line to succeed in either place. In church nowadays, sinning is a prerequisite in order to be considered an acceptable Christian.  God is someone you negotiate with. "Well, I did this sin thing, you know, giggle giggle, but so, you forgive me and I worship you and we'll be good right? And I promise to sin again real soon so we can do this over and over.  K'? K'. Oh, and I'll tithe, fer sure. 😉"

I remember hearing one "power preacher" recently say, "What has God done for you lately?" I cringed. In my church, we were taught to ask, "What have you done for God lately?"

That kind of selflessness is verboten today. Only for losers.

Having end-stage cancer and its treatment is hard to work through. Feeling that I'm fighting to live in such a wicked world makes me so very, very, tired.

1...,2...,3....GO!

That's how I feel today. Self-questioning yet anxious to write. I like to write in a style that is somewhat light but not irrelevant, funny but not boorish, incisive but not preachy.

So, how do I best engage my readers when I've been newly diagnosed with Stage IV Metastasis? I've been puzzling and puzzling over it but today I say, 1, 2, 3, GO!!

So, yes, the bad thing happened last October. Twenty-three years ago, I was diagnosed and treated at Stage I, and most certainly figured I was clear forever. And was led to believe I was clear forever. But NOooooo. I've since learned that it's common for this thing to rear up and bite viciously again, many years later. Believe me, expletives have been abounding in our house over the past year. I'm learning to be quite creative with them.

Stage IV Mets is a different animal completely. It is terminal. Drugs and their side effects are part of your life forever. (I say "you" but of course I mean "me"). For some folks, that "terminal" lasts for many years. Others die after a couple of years. There's no way to know which club you'll be in. That big old anvil is always hanging inches from your head, following you everywhere. You can't just say, "OK, OK, I'll stop chasing that dang roadrunner!" 

And for my precious readers here, I like to write in a style that is truthful but sparing the blood and guts. No talk of needles, invasive procedures, body parts spurting things. (I save that for my specialized FB groups 😅). 

OK, so the news is out. Auntie PC revealed. Please join me on my new adventure.