Back home, on steroids...

Jun 21, 2006 21:41

I'm home from the hospital, and I'm on steroids to keep my cancerous brain swelling down. Which keeps me excited! Which keeps me anti-depressed! Steroids fucking rule! They fucking rock!

Sorry. My state of mind with cancer is absolutely fucking opposite of what I was in a few weeks ago when I was still healthy, after my dad died. Now, my brain is tiny and I'm ready to rock! So I feel like some comedy character. Some cartoon man. I can pump clap you up!

Last night coming home from the hospital on the edge of ability to function, I was weak, depressed and dark. Everything I saw was dim, and horrible, and messy. The house was such a mess that I couldn't stand it, and couldn't understand our adulthood. At all. Why? Why was my house so ugly???

Well, because a month or so ago I was dealing with my dad's funeral, and nothing else, and then traveling to Jackson Hole, Wyoming for a week, and then coming down with horrible brain swellings that made me forget my life.

That's why.

This morning I woke up with better memories and was able to clean a few things in between sleep.

My state of mind is exactly opposite to what it was a couple weeks ago. There is a huge pile of poetry and religion books that I was delicately approaching about sorrow, about Dad's beliefs, while I was on vacation before I collapsed with my tumor. I can't read them any more. Feh, drop them. Screw it. Steroids say fuck off! Steroids say pump it!

I am getting a big fat perspective on everybody else's health problems in the family and community.

A month ago, say, I drove my wife's aging mom, and her roomate who's got cancer, out to the grocery store so they could stock up.

Today I was really tempted to get one of our friends to drive my wife's aging mom, her roomate who's got cancer, and me out to the grocery store, to stock up.

But nah. Wife and I went out and I wobbled around two grocery stores with her while she actually told me where to go and what to grab. I was part of the screwed up oldsters in teh store sliding gently between all the zooming youngsters. I didn't mind. I felt alive, perfectly alive, and thankful for it in stupidity.

Sigh. We'll see what happens. In the next two weeks I'm set up for living at home instead of in a hospital, getting a few investigations of my brain and metabolism, getting some plans for treatment, which will probably be chemotherapy instead of invasive operations.

And we'll see if I make it. We'll see if I survive. I'd like to. Because steroids rule dude! I am off my anti-depressants for the first time in years, and I feel fabulous. And stupid! So maybe...maybe I should dye my hair blonde?
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