malaise: bloods and cripples

I had my blood counts taken last thursday, and was not at all surprised to learn that I am anemic as all hell...the leaden legs and gasping for air after a mere 10 minutes of running was tipping me off to that little factoid. I was injected with some marrow stimulator to force the creation of the little red bastards that seeem to be dying off in droves, just like the other victims of taxol tyranny, my eyebrows, facial skin and, patience.

I am impatient as hell. The worse I feel, the meaner I feel. Healthy folk walk around me in droves on my daily commute. They get in my way like bland, wide, tanks, feeling no pain and wondring vaguely what delightful thing they are going to do that evening. They toss their glossy locks and smooth their crisp suits, worrying about office politics or dinner parties. They talk too loud. Even when they grimly punch their blackberries, it is declamatory. It is overt. It screams of health and life and things being done, worlds moving, birth, life, work....but never death.

And I'm the death's head that moves among them. I'm the alien. I'm so tired I can barely walk and I'm fighting for position in the subway, running for the train, acting like I'm healthy and competent and of this world. My choice, I know. I mean, I could stay at home more. I could act more like a cripple. I could go bald and paint a big old skull and crossbones, or maybe a hazmat sign on my forehead just so humans would give me a wide berth. I could whine more at work. I could play the cancer card...

Or...could I? Let's be realistic. I have great insurance which is affording me the best in cancer care. I am relatively new at my job (i started in January). Could I really jeopardize that? Knowing what I know about being uninsured here in Amurka? (both firsthand, and from taking Poverty Law with a really cool, "fellow-traveler" type law prof?). Can I hear you folks? Can I get a resounding "NO!" I mean, HELL no. I cannot. So I do what I do. And I run to keep sane, and even that pleasure burns and seeths with fear and despair.

And YEAH, I know it's almost over, at least the chemo part is. But, this thing changes you. Try feeling like shit for 6 months straight. And feeling fear the rest of your life. And don't make light of it, and don't tell me that many people have it worse, and I'm just projecting health on people who may or may not have it. I don't give a flying fuck. I know all that. I know I'm lucky.

But DAMN folks, it's dark in here right now...