#chemo days

I've gotten worse. 

Just from the last couple of charts and my reactions to the last couple of treatments, they can tell. So I went in a couple weeks ago, had some lovely (please note the sarcasm on the word, 'lovely') and painful tests and then had my chemo. Which was when I last posted about this part of my ever-so exciting life. 

And the results came back about a week or so after the last chemo. My immune system has stopped fighting like it used to, which is affecting junk. They want to put me into an inpatient chemo session to aggressively attack the cells and monitor my reactions and such. 

This isn't the first time my body has stopped fighting like it was before, but it is the first time where they want to KEEP me in the hospital, and monitor me, and control everything that goes in and out of my body and I don't like it. 

And, as of right now, I'm not to travel. Meaning, my trip to NYC (and to see Fria of course)is a no go right now. And if things keep going downhill, a no go for sure. 

And of course, my health is important. Of course, duh. But I'm upset, and it's not even so much about my health, but because it's putting a damper on my plans. 

And I know that sounds stupid, but it's not--not to me. It's not that I don't care about my health (I do, of course). It's not that I really want to go MEET my friend face to face and experience a new city (of course I do!), but it's the fact that I'm being told what to do. 

And not even by a doctor, but by my own body. And even then, not so much. It's like I'm saying to myself, "haha you want to go do this? LET ME MAKE YOU SICKER HAHAHAHAHAHAHA GUESS YOU CAN'T DO IT, NOW." It's like the biggest betrayal I could give myself. 

I've never been one to follow rules, but I've never been one to break them without a reason. I've always had a strong will to do what I thought, not even best for me, but what would make me happy. I'm a very stubborn person who doesn't like being told what to do, so when the doc said I couldn't travel because I'm too at-risk for whatever, it just....pissed me the fuck off. 

Like the angry tears kind of pissed off. 

I've worked very hard in life. I've been through a lot, especially for someone my age. And most people, when put through any type of hard situation, have some sort of support. I don't. Partly because, like I said, I'm stubborn. No one really knows what's going on. And partly because the very small circle  of people that do know, don't care too much. 

Which, in turn, leads me back to the "I've worked very hard in life." I've worked hard to graduate high school after losing people and being sent to institutions, worked hard to get somewhere stable enough to function in my mentality, worked my ass off at a job so I can pay medical bills because fuck man they are expensive and my mom doesn't give two fucks to help. Worked hard to keep my life as normal as possible, worked hard to experience things people my age do. But fuck if I'm not tired. 

Which is why I wanted this. I wanted to do this. I wanted to experience something new. And I can't. But I don't give a fuck. Want to know why?

Because in August, I'm supposed to spend my inpatient day(s) in California in one of their hospitals. That's the travel I'm allowed to do since it's my health, but you know what? I'm fucking going to Disneyland. If I'm traveling, if I'm going to be put through who knows how many days of chemo, I'm fucking going to Disneyland. I'm already going over there, no point in wasting a trip on something that sucks. 

And as for NYC, that's another story. But I still have time for that. I'm not worried...yet. 

I mean I stare Death in the face. I've got this. 

And yeah, I'm calling YOU out. I stare you in the face, Death. Everyday. Everyday that I go on with a normal routine, everyday that I get up in the mornings and feel you under my skin, poisoning what I am. Everyday that I have to spend stuck with my head in a toilet, everyday that I run a brush through my thin hair and run that same brush through fake hair. I stare you in the face, Death, whenever I cry from the pain, happiness, and especially in the small moments where I hate myself so much to wonder what I did to deserve this. 

I stare you in the face, Death. And I give you a huge 'fuck you' with a dose of pity. Because if you do get me this time around, I feel sorry for you. Because you will meet me face to face, and our meeting will not be a pleasant one. I am not one to be taken lightly, no matter what state I am in.