I don't suppose the details matter much, but they felt very real to me in the moment. Still do. And some of them are real, or at least meaningfully possible pending we see how hard chemo hits me and what comes next with the lung scan on the CT, etc.
This disease turns me inside out, makes me not myself. And it drags everyone who loves me along through the hole. Emotional terrorism, courtesy of rogue cells within my own body. Who ever expected it, eh?
|Originally published at jlake.com.|