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Sunday May 30, 2021

I wake up and feel the pain in my abdomen. The pain reminds me I'm still alive. On occasion I'll lay in the bed with the sun coming in and not feel any pain at all. This bliss reminds me I'm still alive too. Especially when a cool breeze whisks through my open window. Late Spring is nice and my allergy pills seen to work now that I'm older. Do I have chemo today? Will they be accessing my port?  No. It's still a few more days. So I have to give myself a shot into my belly to thin my blood, because I have a clot that at any moment could pass and render me expired. Poking myself hurts a bit.  This reminds me I'm still alive.  Some days it goes in smoothly and it's an added blessing.  Then the pills. One, two, three, sometimes four at a time (the allergy pill is almost an afterthought).   From eight or nine different bottles.  I need to swig big gulps of nectar for they don't go down smoothly without.  This jolt of sweetness reminds me I'm still alive, even when I gag.  Now the bathroom. It's a bit funny to have both diahrrea and constipation at the same time. I strain a bit.  Sit a lot longer.  Then it's as if I'm peeing from my butthole!  Not Everytime.  Occasionally I have a "normal" bowel movement.  When this happens I rejoice.  The things a cancer fighter decides to find celebratory are unlike the rest of the living population, but I'm still here, within that sphere of living people. I'm only a few days past my chemo infusion so I just rest. Drifting in and out of sleep for several days.  Chemo is usually on Wednesdays so by the weekend I cross my fingers that I have the energy to do something fun. To live beyond just living. This usually involves enjoying nature or the things nature has provided us. Feeding Louie, the handsome English Bulldog I share a home with, a treat!  Watching the birds out my window. Listening to music on Spotify. Watching a baseball game on television. Or visiting one of the many sex workers who find my brand of "sex" refreshing.  No really, I'm just looking for companionship!  Intimacy, closeness, cuddles, snuggling sessions. Entertaining nude caresses.  It barely works for peeing, it certainly isn't going to work for sex.  Still I tip them better than those they fuck.  This makes everyone involved feel good.  This helps remind me I'm alive.  Nonetheless finding a day in my week or even hour in my day when I'm not passing gas every 5 minutes is difficult so no amount of financial compensation will allow me to stoop to that level.  Reliability is important because I've very short windows of time where life blossoms and enjoyment flourishes (and I'm not farting!).  And they fucking stink too.  The phrase "did someone die in there" is literal.  Why, yes, my cancer is metastisizing into my liver as we speak!  My insides are indeed dying so on there outside I have to live.  It's also difficult to take someone out for dinner when you know what food is going to do to your digestive system. So my dates end with dinner.  I have a Tuesday liaison with Remi.  I might take her shopping before driving her to work.  Yeah I even have access to a vehicle!  So much has changed for me. Gone are the days when I worried. I've no more worries! It's crazy! I've a fixed income due to being on disability, a wonderful agreement with my caregiver Tammy to live rent free and a 401(k) that I used to be scared wouldn't last my whole retirement, at my fingertips to use as fun money.  Laying still in my bed lots of thoughts try to invade. I disallow most of them. I filter out the negative. I'm very limited in how many days I've left so I have chosen to only focus on the positive things and people who bring me happiness.  People who can make an effort to see me bring those positive vibes. Those who are unable to, I understand.  Nobody wants to be around someone who's dying.  But understand I'm not dying. I'm living. Living and loving in ways I never knew possible without the perspective terminal pancreatic cancer has brought me. I always hated the statement 'everything happens for a reason", and I still prefer to think "reasons are why everything happens", but this cancer inside me did me good. It allowed my focus on life to be positive. That always was a difficult task until now.  I'm going to get worse.  The pain is eventually going to require extra pills and likely, towards the end, morphine.  I'm blessed to reside in a state that allows me to decide when I've had enough of this thing called "life", and I can shuffle off into the sunset with yet another pill.  Don't feel sad for me. I have a secret: every single one of you reading this, that's right 100% of you, are also going to die.  Before you do I hope you can find as much joy and happiness in life as this terminal diagnosis has brought me.