Just like that the lights gone out, the spark has gone. That spark that sustained me through invasive ductal carcinoma, bone and hepatic metastases. The spark that kept me joking through mastectomy and joyous despite right pleural effusion. Now there is just a tiredness, an apathy infiltrated by deep saddness, occassional anger and sickening self-pity.
And she’s not surprised by significant progression of bone metastases to the thoracic, lumbar and sacral spine. It has been three years after all, aren’t I lucky, she thinks it’s acceptable, good news even, but this body it’s invading is mine.
I want to surprise her, need to surprise her everytime, I don’t want to read about progression to 2nd and 11th rib on the right and 6th rib on the left, pelvic bones,clavicle or scull. But they are sclerotic, as if I am supposed to understand. I try to align the symptom with the spot, how many ways can you die from cancer, putting two and two together I eventually start to join the dots.
As I lie here breathless, with fluid building up round my heart and lungs, who am I kidding I’m the same as all the rest. Trying to delay the inevitable, playing a game I can never win. And I’m afraid it’s gone and won’t ever come back, that vital spark that makes this life worth living.