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[cancerinscorpio]

Isn’t it hilarious that I’ve only gotten into skincare since I learned I’ll never age?

[cancerinscorpio]

Are sleepless thoughts poems?

I. I think it’s true that I Regard my illness and death As a failure A fissure so deep in the facade that All my power goes towards a feeble attempt To spackle over it And hope no one sees II. Sometimes I wonder If my junior prom date was marked by death And then marked me

[cancerinscorpio]

Things I’m thinking about lately:

Hair as the “veil of health”

Who should see my writing one day, and in what format they should see it

The cynical cancer patient’s “dying advice”

Things to embroider

Taking a pottery class

All the beautiful things I’ll never get to see

[cancerinscorpio]

I might/would like to think on and elaborate on this further at another time, but this letter from the 27-year-old dying of cancer that everyone is posting has me frustrated, because I am so tired of the trope/expectation of the “enlightened (terminal) cancer patient”. I’m calling bullshit on that right now. I realize that her letter is not for people in my situation, it’s for the healthy and the living, and that the healthy and the living seem really uncomfortable with seeing cancer patients as something other than these inspiring, life-affirming warriors of positivity in the face of hardship, but I don’t want to be held to this standard and I shouldn’t have to be. Of course facing your own mortality gives you valuable perspective, but fretting over the small things makes me feel HUMAN and real and like myself. So I will be petty and small and ungrateful when I want to be and I think everyone, sick or not, should be allowed that sometimes. Maybe in my final days I’ll become that warrior of positivity our culture wants me to be, but in the meantime I refuse to feel ashamed for not being one.

[cancerinscorpio]

2018

I feel like this year is probably my last

and that’s a lot to unpack

[cancerinscorpio]

I wrote to my favorite advice column and this is what I said and she said.

Dear Polly,

I feel like a strange amalgam of various others who have written to you, but nevertheless, here I am. I’m 28, single, and dying from a cancer that is breaking my body and spirit down at an alarming rate. Obviously, so many things about this situation scare and sadden me. But the thing that consumes me most, day in and day out, is the fear and heartbreak of not having a partner there with me through the two or so years I have left or holding my hand when it’s finally time to go. Having been confronted by mortality at a young age, I feel I know more about myself than many 28-year-olds do, and one thing I know is that I am a relationship person. I was in one relationship from age 20 to 25, and another from age 25 to 26, and while neither were perfect, I felt whole and truly like myself in both of them. And it’s not just because I love the feeling of being loved (though obviously I do), but I truly love giving my love to someone else. It feels like the thing I was meant to do, and the reality that I may never have that again is devastating.

Despite the fact that my days are mostly spent in doctor’s offices or lying in bed (or, frequently, both), I do the whole Tinder thing occasionally just for a sense of normalcy and, yes, male attention. I’m okay with most of these dates being one- or two-time things. It’s a salve, sure, but it’s fun, it gets me out of the house, and no one owes each other anything, which means I feel no need to disclose the fact that I’m a ticking, tumor-ridden time bomb. But when I do come across a guy where there’s some real potential (as is the case right now), I find myself both weaving an intricate web of lies to keep things cool in the present and steeling myself for the eventual parting of ways when I either tell them who I really am or break things off before that even happens.

So my dilemma is this: How do I square my desire for a loving partner with my reality as it is? I want to believe there’s someone out there who I could not only open up to about my health but who would accept and love me in spite of it. But that feels like a fairy tale (FUCK YOU, FAULT IN OUR STARS etc.). And even if it’s not a fairy tale, and that guy materialized, I would be wracked with guilt at the idea of even asking someone to get pulled into this terrifying, morbid mess. So, Polly, do I keep chasing the fairy tale? Do I give up entirely? Is there some other alternative I’m missing? Or is the salve the best I’m going to get until things are so bad that I no longer have the physical strength for any of it?

Sincerely,

Dying Girls Need Loving Too, Right?

______________________________________________________________________

Dear DGNLTR,

I’m sure you don’t want to hear how sorry I am, but I am sorry. It’s still dark out, and I feel too small and stupid to offer you anything of value. I always tell people to just show up and be honest when people are in crisis (as opposed to trying to fix anything or unloading their big barrel of forcedly optimistic clichés on top of someone’s head). But just showing up and being honest feels inadequate, too.

I’m sure having terminal cancer feels socially oppressive that way. Particularly in the middle of a sea of feeling shitty and confronting the breakdown of your body and spirit, it must be horrible to watch everyone you know flattened and emptied out and inadequate in your presence. I’ll bet that’s why Tinder feels like a giant reprieve from the heavy looks and the weighty silences of other people. Finally, a bubble of mundane chatter and raw attraction where you can encounter someone without the weight of this absurdly unfair diagnosis.

But I’ll bet there are also people who can show up without feeling inadequate. I’ll bet you know people who bring their best, who relish the chance to be there for you. I’ve been trying to trick one of my friends into hanging out on her chemo days or while she’s recovering. I just feel like I could play the role of a good partner, fun or quiet or barely there if necessary. She questions why I’d want to be there, and I guess I don’t really blame her. Even though I see it as a way of showing up and offering her something I’m good at giving, maybe there’s also a little of the ambulance-chaser, disaster-gawker in the mix for me. Even if that’s a side effect of being drawn to the ugly truth at all costs, it can still feel a little suspect. As with any other personality trait, there are good impulses and bad impulses dancing together there.

If you decided to embrace the fairy tale, this would be part of the beauty and the danger of locating potential partners who wouldn’t run away or be dismantled by the prospect of standing by you to the end. Whether you start to tell people your diagnosis very early or mention it to someone you like, there’s still this question in the room: What kind of person might be willing to be there for you? Would it be someone who’s real and true and recognizes something in you that feels vital to his continued existence? Or will it be someone who loves the idea of himself as some kind of a savior or merciful saint, like the Virgin Mary in Michelangelo’s Pieta?

My suspicions on that front are probably distinctly parental. As a parent, I would want to be there for you all the time. I would want you to have a partner if you wanted one, but I’d also want you to know that I would give you everything I had to give. And frankly, that kind of parental devotion and worry might be irrelevant here. What you’re talking about is sex and romance and devotion and someone who’s in love with you, holding your hand at the end. A parent isn’t a suitable substitute when romantic love is what you’re looking for. Moreover, getting hung up on the intricate web of motives that live in any potential partner’s personality is almost always a mistake. Why bother? Are your own motives pure? Can you distill just the love out of a mix of a million different human needs and preferences and urges? No way.

And should you feel guilty about wanting someone to be by your side, or putting someone through such a potentially difficult experience? Hell no, as long as you’re honest with them. In fact, you can balance your own guilt at putting a partner through this against his guilt for having a perfectly human blend of good and bad traits that make him capable of going through it with you.

Obviously, the bottom line is that you should do exactly what you want. No one is going to argue with that. But I think you’re also wondering if it’s a good idea to focus on this, and if it’s a good use of your time to look for love. Your timeline is condensed, after all. You’d have to tell potential partners and watch them react and maybe run away, and that might be harrowing. That said, posting an honest “I’m Dying” listing on Tinder would attract the ambulance chasers.

I think you should experiment with what makes you feel good. It sounds like you’re into someone and it might be time to tell him. So tell him. You don’t strike me as someone who’s going to be traumatized by the wrong reaction. But it also sounds like you want to keep looking if this doesn’t work out. That’s okay, too. If it feels good to look, look. If it doesn’t feel good, stop. I do think you’d want to watch out for control freaks, who immediately want to sign onto all of it and take over everything in your life. But you’re probably a decent judge of character, having lived the life you’ve lived.

The real question is whether the fantasy of love will be a salve or not. Personally, I’m a big fan of choosing your illusion. I think every big, overwhelming event in life — sickness, kids, marriage, death — demands some suspension of disbelief. Fantasies and fairy tales present themselves to us culturally as modes of escape, but sometimes they’re actually a way of savoring the present; it just depends on how we use them. When I was young, I used my fantasy of love to judge all of my moments alone as Not Good Enough. I’d see something beautiful and think, “If only I had someone here to share this with.” I don’t do that anymore. I savor my life in a pretty solitary way, for the most part. Even though I tell my husband a lot, I never feel my moments alone are less worthy than the moments I spend in his company.

But I’ve dramatically changed my view of how love should function in a person’s life. I value my private perceptions and adventures in ways I never did before. And I guess that even with a partner in my life, I didn’t really feel whole until I landed here, in a place where I could treat my solitary trajectory as a romantic one.

That’s what I want for you more than anything else. I think it could bring your life a lot of joy and warmth to have someone who loves you like crazy and is there for you in spite of all “terrifying, morbid messes” to come. You should pursue that if you believe in that, and you shouldn’t feel guilty or embarrassed about it. But I also think that you should cling fast to the fact that this is your life and yours alone, and it’s beautiful already in its own rough, ragged way. It already matters. It doesn’t matter more if someone is there with you. It matters now. I want to challenge you to dare to see yourself through that lens, whether you find someone worthy of your love or not. I would hate for your search for love to rob you of what you already have. I want you to be able to take every fucked up, scary, morbid moment and every glorious, divine, irreplaceable moment and every mundane setback and dreary wait and imperfect, faintly satisfying moment in between and add them up to something truly romantic.

I get that this might sound obnoxious. I sometimes talk like this to my friend who’s going through chemo, and even though she’s a skilled novelist capable of capturing the most heartbreaking moments with a few well-chosen words, she’s not into my pep talks. She’s like, “Fuck you, I’m bald and I feel like shit.” Flowery words of inspiration just make her feel worse. So I give her shit and make jokes now. That’s what she likes.

That would also be one of the toughest aspects of having a relatively new partner under your current circumstances. You need someone capable of major shifts in key and tone and tempo. A person like that is hard to find. And even WITH this very sensitive tonal shifter along for the ride, you will still want some space to savor and honor your private experiences. Understanding that your solitary experience of the world is important, it matters, it’s romantic: This lies at the heart of all happiness as far as I’m concerned. And it’s a challenge we all face no matter what our circumstances are. It’s not easy. But happiness, even within the comfort of a partnership, is impossible without it.

I’m not saying you should milk every last drop of nectar from life even when you’re going through hell. You don’t have to overachieve your way through the time you have left. Just try to view yourself and your life through the eyes of a devoted partner whether you find that person or not. Because the jagged edges of who you are, the sharp corners of what you’re going through, even when they’re sad or chaotic or lonely, are everything.

It reminds me of the very first note of Beethoven’s First Symphony. I can’t get enough of that first note, hanging there like a question mark.

Imagine, sitting down to write your FIRST goddamn symphony at the age of 25, and thinking, “I’ll start with a sudden, jarring, unresolved chord in the wrong key! But then it will resolve quietly, and then I’ll add another jarring chord! And my third jarring chord will repeat and repeat, like a slightly sad, haunting question that hangs in the air a little too long!” I mean, what an arrogant, bold, brilliant choice. And even though it’s incredible how Beethoven manages to move so smoothly from that sweet, melancholy question to this lilting, graceful dance through the countryside, followed by a bouncy triumphant conquest, followed by a strange dark shadow where things get terrifyingly morbid and a little messy, he starts it all with this insistent, melancholy inquiry. And the battling themes, with their absurdly conflicted moods, combine to form a kind of rough, uneven attempt at an answer.

But no matter how much comfort it gives us to cling to the last, forceful note Beethoven offers, it’s clear that he doesn’t really have an answer. He wants us to stay close to the question, to hear the grace in those notes, to hear the anguish and the longing there. That’s what those first chords say to me: Even when your life feels incomplete, suspended, unresolved, your task is to relish that imperfect, unnervingly unfinished space as much as you possibly can.

Anguish and longing live at the heart of every life. We are all totally alone in some ways, but we can believe in love and love it like crazy even in our solitude. I might die alone. We all might. The Earth might stop spinning in the next second. Cultivating the belief that every sigh, every breeze, every melancholy, uncertain moment alone matters: This is my work and yours and everyone else’s. These things are tiny and stupid and inconsequential, yet they matter more than words can capture.

I’m still conflicted about your question. I want you to have the fairy tale and live inside a fantasy and live in reality and savor being alone, too. I want you to have everything.

Most of all, though, I want you to know that this world loves you more than you can possibly imagine. I want you to believe that. Even though the most terrifying and morbid evidence would seem to suggest otherwise, the truth is that this world adores you like the most devoted lover. I can’t prove it, but I know that it’s real. When you struggle, the leaves on the trees shudder, the sun weeps, Beethoven’s violins cry, and the spirits of the dead and the living are on your side. We are all living inside the same terrifying, sweet, sad question with you. Do you feel that? That part is not a fairy tale. That part is real.

Polly

https://www.thecut.com/2017/11/ask-polly-im-dying-but-i-want-to-be-in-love.html

[cancerinscorpio]

#nofilter

Written back in August but didn’t post until now (November)...

It’s an unspoken reality now that I am going to die. I’m too afraid to ask how long I have (EDIT: I asked, and it’s probably 2 years or less), and I doubt there’s a clear answer, but the question is now 100% a matter of WHEN and not IF.

New metasteses keep showing up with every new scan. In my pelvic muscles. In my bones. In my liver. In my spine. In a lymph node. My body is increasingly weakened and uncomfortable and broken. My pelvis is shattered swiss cheese and I can feel the muscles in my right leg disintegrating as nerves are impinged and probably eaten away. Doxil and Pazopanib didn’t work. Radiation can’t stop the spread. Surgery isn’t an option. I’m trying another chemo now—Trabectedin—in the hopes that it will just hold things steady and keep things from getting worse for awhile. Should that fail...I’m told there are a few more options, but none are proven, and at very best each might give me a few extra months.

I should be grateful that I got 10 years before it came to this. But I am not grateful. I am furious. I am the most bitter woman on earth. I am certain that my suffering is greater than everyone else’s and I cannot abide anyone’s complaints because unless you too, are dying and dying quickly and agonizingly, I no longer have the strength or desire to care or empathize. Everyone’s else’s happiness and opportunity nauseates me even though I know that it isn’t a fair or healthy way to feel. Fuck “fair” and DEFINITELY fuck “healthy”. They certainly both fucked me. I’ve decided that I should just own those feelings while I still can, no matter how toxic. Toxic thoughts aren’t going to make me any sicker, just like positive thoughts aren’t going to save me. Besides, I find that angry nihilism forms a serviceable trio with denial-based numbness and crushing depression. 

I should also be grateful for the 27-ish years life I have been able to live. I guess I am, to an extent. But I have also been disappointed by life. And on the surface I shouldn’t be. I don’t have any major, soul-crushing regrets. I pretty much stuck to the straight and narrow and did what I was supposed to and avoided a lot of mistakes and failures as a result. But now, that feels like a failure in and of itself. I either didn’t know myself, or was afraid to be myself, for nearly all of it. I can remember few points in my life when fear and insecurity haven’t figured front and center into every choice, every interaction, every thought. I sleptwalked through my life because it was safe, and told myself that I was ok with that. I dated Sean for too long, I stayed in too much. I said no to way too many things. If I’m honest and don’t imagine my parents reading this (if you guys do one day...sorry), I wish I had drank more and done more drugs and fucked more guys. Not that those things add up to a fulfilling life, but they would have added up to a more exciting one.

There’s a mural on the side of a building in Manhattan that I see when crossing over the bridge to go to Sloan. People often Instagram it. It says, “What are we going to do with all this future?”. Depending on the day, this mural that is supposed to be inspiring but also sell something (I don’t remember what) only inspires rage or inconsolable sadness in me, because here’s what I will NOT be doing with “all this future”: Making plans, improving, finding success, dealing with failure, cultivating friendships, falling in love, getting married, watching my family change and grow, reaching milestones, starting over, traveling, getting drunk, getting high, having sex, being broke, making mistakes, discovering things I love, outgrowing things, and becoming the fully realized self that I just now feel is starting to take shape. I could list out what I’ll be doing with my abbreviated future instead, but at this moment I don’t feel ready to think in-depth about the drudgery of my existence and the process of my actual death. But I can tell you that in the present I am already contemplating things like who my stuff will go to, and what photos of myself I’d want at my funeral, and how on earth people will even find out that I’m gone.

[cancerinscorpio]

I fucking did it by the skin of my teeth

Well...

At this point I just hope I make it to 28.

[cancerinscorpio]

New and Now

I have 4 cm tumor in my hip joint, and a few little spots elsewhere in my pelvis. It’s eating the bone away and hurts like hell. I’m on oxycontin 24/7. 

I was seeing a really cool guy for about two months and when I told him what was about to happen to me, he decided he couldn’t commit to that. Fine. Whatever. It’s honestly easier to do this alone than with someone you don’t fully trust.

I have five days of radiation next week. Then I’ll start two new kinds of chemo. Neither should make my hair fall out, but one will turn all of my hair white. I decided I wasn’t willing to part with it and would only accept drugs without that side-effect. At least at first. I don’t care if it’s stupid or vain. Neither is supposed to be as hard on me as last year’s chemo was, so maybe if my pain is under control I can still live a little this summer. Knowing my time is limited makes it all the more painful to be stuck inside and hobbled.

The discussion with my doctors has changed from, “let’s beat this” to “let’s contain this as much as we can”. I almost feel like a disappointment. I feel like my life has a different lens on it. Hope feels cruel instead of healthy now. I think a lot about dying now. I wonder if the apartment I’m about to move to will be my last. If I just went on my final family vacation. If I’ll die in unrequited love with him. I wish I could force my heart to harden against it all but I’m still feeling so many things and every one of them hurts.

[cancerinscorpio]

All I’ve ever wanted is to feel like I have a chance...

[cancerinscorpio]

Everything is pointless and I should probably just give up on trying to get close to anyone for the remainder of my miserable life.

really excited to probably get dumped because of cancer again

[cancerinscorpio]

I spend so much time minimizing my experiences and suppressing my feelings that when someone who means the world to me comes out and says, so directly and plainly, YOU HAVE BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH THIS YEAR, the gravity and truth of that just blow me away. 

I have been through so much this year.

I have been through so fucking much this year. 

I have been tired and sad and scared and angry for a year. I have been brokenhearted and broken-bodied. I have been lost and aimless and overwhelmed and under-stimulated. I am struggling right now. Punishing myself. Acting out in ways that are self-destructive. Putting new and old relationships at risk. All because there is so much swirling around inside me that I can’t or haven’t accepted or dealt with. That I have been through so much isn’t an excuse, but it is the reason I have.

I HAVE BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH THIS YEAR.  And maybe if I stop pretending that it isn’t real I can be good and whole again.

[cancerinscorpio]

Hi here’s a cancer update.

I’m done with radiation and had my first re-staging scan yesterday (a CT of my chest/abdomen/pelvis) which showed no new tumors. So YAY! The areas in my sinus and pelvis will be scanned at a later date because the radiation needs time to take effect, so I can’t say I’m cancer-free right now, but I at least know I have a several-month long break from treatments, which is incredible, given it’s been a year-long slog of bad news and disappointments at this point.

My vision is still pretty messed up, but I think it’s getting better in small increments, very slowly, so I’m still hopeful. Also hopeful that I’ll be able to return to work and some form of normal life. Fingers crossed.

[cancerinscorpio]

can’t wait until I’m not exhausted by everything

[cancerinscorpio]

Done with radiation as of Monday. Here’s a goofy selfie of the mask I wore for it.

[cancerinscorpio]

Maybe this is strange, but I love radiation. Taking an hourlong cab ride twice a day to get there sucks, but otherwise you just lay still in your little mould, watch the machines whir around you, maybe listen to music if the techs offer, and envision your cancer cells being zapped into oblivion. It’s painless (if you’re lucky and your doses are targeted in ways that affect skin and sensitive areas minimally, like mine are) and effortless and while I can definitely already feel some increased fatigue only 3 days in, I can’t imagine NOT doing it or feeling any anxiety or fear about it. 

I’m only having five days of high-dose radiation to my sacral mass (I started on Monday so I only have two days left!) but I’m also getting an additional two weeks of lower-dose radiation to my sinuses (where I had my surgery) and the area of my impinged 6th ocular nerve, which is causing this horrible, horrible double vision/palsy/lazy eye. I have my fingers soooo tightly crossed that each subsequent day will blast out the remaining cells/mass that were left over after surgery and that things will start to improve, because past that I’m not sure what options I have for any meaningful recovery and it’s so fucking debilitating and scary. I am trying to have faith in the process and the science and in my body to have just a little bit of fight left.

[cancerinscorpio]

My vision is even worse today and I feel so trapped and pathetic and depressed