I swear if my parents didn’t read this blog, I’d be cursing a lot more. So I guess I’ll just start with my dad’s version of bad language when he gets pissed. DAGNABIT.

Today started low. I couldn’t sleep because I was completely uncomfortable. I didn’t take any medications because dagnabit I am GOING to start driving and living my life. And I can’t until I’m done with the narcotics. I should have accepted the fact that I needed some but I can be a bit of a blockhead so I didn’t. So no sleep and lots of pain.

But then I went to the IVF doctor and things looked really really good. I’ve been so stressed that this cycle wasn’t going to go anywhere either (the first one was a bust) and that on top of everything else I am having to deal with, the fact that I may not be able to have children is not something I am ready for. I know there are other options, and I’ve always wanted to adopt anyway, but I’m not ready to face the no biological children option yet. It’s too much. But the doctor told me my follicles look amazingness and there are no huge cysts pushing others out of the way and I was just overjoyed to hear that. If things stay like they are, I’ll probably do retrieval next Tuesday or Wednesday. I’ll be so glad to have that part over with. On top of everything, the amount of hormones in my body during this process is making me a mad woman.

So I left happy but then yet again, I crashed. We stopped at home depot for 20 minutes to get some extra keys made for my parents who have been here for 2 weeks and have just been borrowing mine, and of course, I feel like I’m going to die. What the hell? I can’t go for an hour without crashing? Mom went with me to my support group last night and one of the things that resonated with me was how some of the woman were saying that it was hard once they went back to work because they look okay, so people think they are. I mean, I’m talking about a year or more long process I have to go through. And I know I keep playing it off, saying it’s just an inconvenience so people won’t worry about me, but it’s more than that. It hurts. I am sad. I am broken. And I’m tired of feeling this way and I haven’t hardly started. But I keep calling it an inconvenience and even the people closest to me are starting to believe me.

I have a presentation for work tomorrow. It’s only 45 minutes but I am damned and determined to do it even if I have to come home and sleep for 2 hours when I’m done. I’m napping like a damn newborn. I need to be progressing. I need to be getting better.

I keep trying to tell myself it’s temporary. Tim’s sister has severe MS. Even from when I met her 3 years ago, she’s gotten much worse. It’s one of the most debilitating diseases I’ve ever seen. She’s gone from just a walker to a wheelchair to needing someone every single second for every single thing. She’s always apologizing so much for inconveniencing people. How dare I complain for one second about anything I’m going through when for her, it’s not going to get better. We pray and hope that one day science will discover something and she’ll improve and get her strength back. Get back to how she was. But that day’s not here. For me, that day is here. I will get better. A year is nothing compared to a lifetime. I have the cure. I’ll even get my damn boob back and it’ll probably look better than anything I ever had in my 20s. And I’ll get a fricking tummy tuck out of the deal.

When I first started this process I had no idea how complicated cancer is. It’s like 20% disease and 80% emotion. The disease part I’m going to kick ass at; it’s just pain. It’s temporary. Hell, I’ve run 5 marathons, tell me I can’t deal with this. But the emotional ups and downs. The guilt, the depression, the despair followed by hope and inspiration followed by guilt all over again. That’s the part I struggle with. That’s the part I don’t know if I can conquer. I’m crossing my fingers.


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