The news this week was grim. After getting through a rough round #1 of radioembolization to the right lobe of the liver, round #2 to the left is not to be. While there was some progress seen from the process (reduced SUV values on the biggest tumors) there were also numerous new tumors in both the right and left that were not there on the last scan in Oct. And the nasty little disease has decided to take up residence in some fairly significant boney areas--left shoulder blade, left upper arm, ribs, vertebrae. So while we've had bad news before, this is the mother lode of bad news. It's in your bones, kid. There's nothing we can do for you, kid. Get your affairs in order, kid.
Fuck it anyway. If it were just me, I'd be tempted to be somewhat thankful that the nightmare will be ending shortly. But I can never, ever get to that point because I have a girlie that needs me. A teenager that will be devastated, and will need to figure out the rest of her life without either parent.
The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. She has been my everything, and I feel so damn guilty for leaving her with this load of shit.
I find myself wishing there was an owners manual, a users guide of sorts, to go to for reference on how to die. What should I be doing a few months out? A few weeks out? Is it too early to sell all my shit? Where will I live if I sell my house? Who's going to take my pain in the ass OCD dog that never stops moving? Um, I guess I should consider disability now? Who wants to spend their last weeks on earth going to work? But do I really want to sit home alone all day?
Yep, I need a self-help book on this topic. How To Die in 10 Easy Steps. Can't find it on Amazon.
