biathlon

so.  i'm scared.  i'm afraid of what the whole brain radiation will do to me.  to my thinking.  in five weeks, in six months, in six years.  on one hand, i'm afraid that without doing it, the cancer will once again gather in my brain and this time it won't be as easy as losing my vision on the way to a friday cup of coffee, it will be my arms or legs or speech.  on the other hand, i'm afraid that in six months i won't be able to remember what i had to do today, and in a few years i'll have dementia and be in my late thirties.  if you've done any reading about radiation to the brain, you're probably scared, too.  if you haven't done any reading (and i haven't) i'm sorry to break possible outcomes to you.  it is shitty.  this is all very shitty, and i keep reminding myself, it has been shitty since the start.  cancer at 26 sucked, cancer recurring at 27 and 29 and 32 sucked, and i can't imagine it not sucking.  excuse my language, but i'm pretty sure these are adequate words for what i am attempting to convey.

i'm also afraid for short-term things.  like being nauseous.  i've been nauseous, and it is no fun.  fingers crossed, i won't be.  i hope my brain doesn't swell.  because then i'll have to go on steroids.  and anyone who's been on steroids will tell you, steroids suck big time.  i hope my wound doesn't break down.  i'm freaking sick of this incision on the back of my head giving me problems.  i've had enough.  i want to get through the next five weeks without a head issue that involves prior surgeries.  should i have put it in writing?  probably not.  but so help me if this wound opens up because i have fried my skin with radiation.  i'll be pissed.  and if i'm on steroids and pissed, so help anyone within a ten-foot radius.  not really, but that's how they make me feel.  losing my hair?  a sad side show, but not the worst thing i can imagine.  i'll have to buy a straw fedora, a nice one, maybe two.  people are just going to have to get used to looking at my scar. 

i feel like i'm competing in biathlon, something i learned about over new year's in new hampshire.  we learned about how when the athletes come in to shoot, if they don't hit all five targets, they have to do a penalty lap around a shorter loop before attempting to shoot again.  it is hard to lay prone and hit five targets while breathing heavy, let alone stand up and do it.  trust me.  i tried.  but i digress.  as soon as my vision went wonky that morning after partner friday, the race was on.  i had the surgery, thought i was doing well, had hit like four out of the five targets, and then missed the last one.  penalty lap.  more surgery.  now i am back in the race again, but now i am well behind my competitors.  sure, a few others might be back here with me, but i need things to go really well to have a chance of making a good showing.  i know where the finish line is, but i still have to do another couple rounds of shooting to get there, and i want them to be perfect.