I feel a little silly rejoicing over the fact that I get to have organs removed tomorrow! The scan was not so terrible that surgery had to be cancelled. There have not been many good signs in the adventure, and while I’m very thankful, the trepidation does not ease.
While I cannot interpret a radiologist’s report with any sense of competency, it took a long time for me to breathe. “Lung Nodules” scared the shit out of me. But after some cursory internet searches, I realized that more testing will be required to know what is cancer and what isn’t. Other than that, the report seemed reasonable. So many of my organs are normal or even unremarkable! Even my liver has survived my glasses of wine though I do have multiple gallstones. Joy.
K posted a bit about this adventure on Facebook today. My phone started going crazy and of course, FB went crazy, mostly with Kevin’s friends saying they are praying for me. I know that He is my best and only hope anyway, and He doesn’t mind my trepidation too much.
The post brought about the contact from J, whom I’m not ready to communicate with. I made the decision years ago to keep my organs. I did. It’s not his fault I was utterly codependent and intent on keeping things calm. That wasn’t his fault. It was mine, and now I will pay dearly for it. I’m so very sad that after all the healing I’ve come through and hope I’ve enjoyed, I’m now at this place where I run a good chance of fighting this shit for the rest of my life. My SHORTENED life. I can’t and won’t talk to him. I would scream and be ugly and it’s not his fault I was broken. To be fair, he helped to break me. So, I guess I feel he shares in this result. It just was what it was. And now it is what it is.
I’m not sure I’ve ‘cleared my bowels’ enough to sleep comfortably. Maybe after I relax here a little it will make it all better.
The emotions that fill me up run all across the gamut. Fear of being alone and being fully dependent on other people who have no responsibility toward me. Fear of pain. Fear of dying when I haven’t loved my grandbabies enough yet. Forcing my children to take me to their home to die in hospice. I don’t want to think about these things yet. Especially not now.
I want to walk more half marathons. I want to go to Europe at least once, though this adventure may very well bankrupt me for the rest of my livable days. I want to put my feet in Hawaiian sand. I have way more laughter left in me, and love, and neck rubbing. I’m not ready to give up my nearly new living space. Damn it, I’m just not ready.
I have been working up to the understanding that in this life, I don’t really get to be loved by someone who considers me his princess. I really wanted to be a princess.
If you are reading this and you are a believer in Jesus, don’t even tell me how precious I am to Him. Absolutely, I am precious to him. He is my best and only hope in my life for security, but that will be after this life. He offers me no promises here, and I’m not mad about that. Well, I’ve been kinda mad, but I’m allowed. That’s not what I’m talking about.
In my early years, men and boys touched my physical body to their own fucked up pleasure. However they wanted and whenever they wanted. This set the tone for my marriages, and it continued it’s fucked up-ness. One husband had to live without a healthy love life and the other was so weird that it just never worked. I’ve been single 7 years with the intention of having someone on this earth that I could love and be loved by and still be SAFE. The fun and horror of building trust when you don’t know how to trust anyone is what I have dreamed of. Of being respectful of each other, even when we feel lost. Of being sexual and intimate and SAFE.
I’ve worked hard to let my guard down and to be transparent with men, even while I maintain my wishes and my choices. There have been a couple that I would have liked to spend a little more time with but that hasn’t been their choice and I respect that. I figured that one day I’d find one I wanted to spend more time with, and he would want to spend more time with me.
He would see my frailties and my beauty. He would see how kind I am and how lost I can get sometimes. He would also be kind to me and we could make dinner together and watch movies on the sofa. We could go to the ocean and the forest and road trips would be casual and relaxed. If we needed to do the laundry, I could do that if he could wash the cars. We wouldn’t mind if we smelled a little funny, as long as we could shower soon enough. Sweet and sexy and strong and soft and …
There is something to be said about feeling cherished. The look in the eye, the wink, the smile that shows a genuine joy to be in the company of someone you choose. He’s willing to make the coffee in the morning and she’s willing to do the dishes every day. It’s a partnership of friends and lovers and while it’s never such a fairy tale as the one I’m telling, these things really happen. Not all at once or even in the same month. But there are moments where you feel that this person has your back. You are not in this alone.
My alone-ness during this adventure has me stumped. It’s as if it’s not real. The fears that have gripped me in the night maintain their grip until the morning because I don’t know how to combat them alone. So many fears. I have wondered what it would be like to have someone to be in this with me, together. What I have not the ability to consider is the fear I would have watching my loved one endure such trauma. For this lacking, I’m incredibly thankful.
I have a neighbor – a kind young fella with an incredibly beautiful wife and two sweet boys. When he and I meet on the sidewalk outside, his “Hello!” tickles my heart. It’s not at all sexual, but it intimates that he has a softness in his heart toward me (and all the other beautiful humans he greets) that I ache to hear in the voice of the one I love.
So don’t tell me about the sovereignty of God and how sweet heaven will be. I still don’t get to be a human man’s priceless princess. And every girl deserves to be a princess at least for a little while.
So now I will take my delightful Ambien and drift off to sleep. The alarm is set for 4 AM. Tomorrow we begin to see the length of this fight, though it’s a baby step really. At least much of the murderous stuff will be of my beautiful body.
This is the first step out of the Land of the Fucked.