Timeline Exaggeration

When I started this blog, I was drunk.

I had great ambitions in my early 20s about writing a memoir (like Lena Dunham, but wayyyy more likeable), and I followed this famous quote:

"Write drunk; edit sober."
-Ernest Hemingway

Could be worse. Could be Flakka.

I find that when I drink and write, my verbiage tends to become more flowery, highbrow, and exaggerated.

So when I wrote in my first post, "Welcome to a year in cancer", I didn't realize that what I should have said was, "Welcome to two months in cancer."

It's spread. Little seeds of cancer, growing into something ugly throughout her peritoneum.

She doesn't have long, so I have to write fast, drunk or sober, high or clean; because when she dies, I imagine this blog won't be far behind.

My mother has told people that I'm her "lifeline", but really, she has been mine. There's always the umbilical connection if you want to get literal, but there's the reality that she has saved my life, countless times.

As a teenager, I struggled with depression and bipolar disorder (I still do, but my symptoms are well-managed and I've learned appropriate language for when I need help), and was repeatedly hospitalized. As a mother now, I can only begin to imagine the horror of your child repeatedly wanting to (and trying to) end their life. It's an emotion I hope to never have to experience, but my mother managed my illness with calm and grace, like she handles most things.

She's told me that when she'd come home from the hospital, she'd pause before turning her key in the lock, mentally steadying herself in case I was dead. I told her that the only thing that kept me alive for years was that I knew she wouldn't be able to survive losing another child.

It's like "The Gift Of The Magi", only reverse and with no hair cuts.

I have a shot of Depressed Me, but I don't feel like posting it.

She called me yesterday and, in her most charming, sardonically positive voice, said, "Well, now Ed and I have matching DNRs for our bedroom walls."

"My oncologist said 2-3 months is the median for cancer like this. Could be 4-5 weeks. I walked in in tears, because I knew the conversation we were going to have. I asked him if it was 'carcinomatosis', and he said yes."

SCIENCE DEFINITION TIME! Carcinomatosis: A condition in which multiple carcinomas develop simultaneously, usually after dissemination from a primary source.

I know I love my mom's guts, but not these guts. These guts can fuck off.

"Is there anything I can say that will give you some comfort, honey?"

I shook my head, forgetting for a second that I'm on the phone with her and clearly she can't hear a head shake, you stupid idiot. I choked out a quiet "No."

"You know I love you more than I can express, don't you?"

It takes me forever to answer. "Of course. I love you, too."