It's not that I don't care what's happening to me at all. It's just that I don't really know what I'm feeling about it these days. I no longer have this desire to announce to random customers that I have cancer. ("Hey--how's it going?" "Not bad--it's Friday, and that's always good." "True . . . except I'm working this weekend. And I have cancer." Note: that conversation never happened. Well, okay, it has, but not the last sentence.)
I have ceased--at least at present--to worry about financial fallout. (This is partly because of some assistance on the part of numerous generous souls, but also because after the bill hits a certain amount it all starts to look like the same number.)
I don't feel like I'm facing imminent death. Everything seems strangely manageable. But I have a feeling I still want it to happen on my terms or something.
Yesterday I felt like I was coming down with the flu. Everything ached. Also, the thought of eating made me ill. I drank bouillon and ate some bread and didn't even wish I was eating more. I don't want to be sick, because if I'm sick on Thursday, my surgery will be postponed, and I just want to get something done regarding this already. Today I feel better, but the cough I had with my cold a few weeks ago has come back.
Tomorrow I'm going to another hospital to get a second opinion on treatment. Likely this will not change the Thursday surgery, but it might affect some other treatments. But I have to get up earlier than anyone should have to get up unless they're opening a coffee shop that morning, and I'm so tired. And I already feel like I know what I want for treatment. And I no longer feel like I want anyone else's opinion. I don't want any more sitting in doctor's offices talking. I either want to get this show on the road, or to lie in bed and sleep for about 24 hours . . .