Death and the Maiden

Meanwhile back at Thursday's appointment with Doc Plotkin, my tumor minder and advisor, I got some other good news (besides the fact that I don’t need surgery or more radiation at the moment). I’ve somehow lost five more pounds. This is especially surprising since I’ve been unable to exercise due to my stupid, ongoing left foot problem (which is beginning to clear up FINALLY!).

Gotta say, that perked me up ALMOST as much as the report of my tumor farm’s lack of major developments and blossomings. I'm now 10 pounds away from my goal weight. Am I trying, at my advanced age, to get a fabulous beach bod in time for ... ummmm ... something. Fuck no. This is New England — we're in thick sweaters, vests, turtlenecks, and scarves season now!  Also, weight loss is about attempting to tip the balances a TINY bit towards healthy in the face of all my egregious tumor shit.

The good doc and I discussed death — the fact that so many of my fellow NF2 warrior friends have fallen. Most were younger than me. Not Michie — she was a year older. I told Plotkin that it feels like I’m gonna be the last NF2er standing, (with my trusty rollator), in the rubble at the end of the world. Survivor guilt.

He asked, “do you want to be the last one standing?” 

I reflexively said “FUCK YEAH!” I am a stone competitive bitch. Also, for some stupid reason the theme song from Fame started playing in my head at that moment.

They Can Talk

I'm gonna live forever
Baby, remember my name

No, I don’t want to live forever and I honestly DO understand that, as Plotkin put it, it's about the quality of life not just being alive.

I feel pretty sure that Felicity, Michie, Nissa, Carmel, and my mother (who died at the age of 85, having triumphed over cancer AND NF2) were ready to clock out when the Reaper came to the door. The fight to carry on and find workarounds for my pushy and ever intruding, fresh impairments gets exhausting. Wicked draining.

I know that, in their last years, Felicity and Nissa (maybe Michie too) experienced extreme difficulty taking in food due to nerve neuropathy — this on top of being deaf, half blind, robbed of mobility, and confined to hospital/nursing home beds. They were fed via feeding tubes. Do I want to be the last one standing if I can’t stand? If I've lost my sight? If I can’t eat an ice cream cone or a nice dish of saag paneer? Do I want to go on if I can no longer rage against the machine?

I don't know but I think not. Medical Aid in Dying should be legal in Massachusetts. It is in 13 states and Washington D.C. Why not here? 

On that upbeat note, here — have some memes that amused me. Yur welcome.