Bitchin

I bitch a lot. I bitch about stupid things and I bitch about important things, of course these are stupid and important  to me.

I’m sick of looking in the mirror and still doing a double take, I miss my long hair. This short curly chemo mop I have IS NOT ME.

I’m sick of the fucking hot flashes that soak my clothes and at night, my bed. And. It makes me really angry that I can’t do a damn thing about it. None of the “safe” alternatives have worked yet.

AND I have had all I can take of this foot thing. Peripheral neuropathy.  You can’t see it, it doesn’t leave any marks… it just feels like I have taken a slow stroll over hot coals while my feet are asleep. And first thing in the morning? ( If I have been able to sleep) My feet feel like they are going to split apart with every step. Last week I was walking out in the snow. BAREFOOT. Actually that probably wasn’t  the smartest thing I could have done but none-the-less it worked till the blue tinge went away…

Every time I do anything “fun” or that I enjoy, my feet have the need to remind me that they are there… burning, tingling. I wear my cute shoes? PAIN. Go shopping with my daughters? PAIN sit on the couch watching TV? PAIN.  I AM SICK OF IT!  

For fucks sake wasn’t it enough that I had to have half of my breast removed and ALL of my lymph nodes, did 52 chemo treatments, 35 radiation and have to take this stupid “anti-hormone” pill for the next 5 years( 10yrs if you read the new research) didn’t I give it my all? Didn’t I “fight like a girl” ? Arent I a “survivor”?? Its been a year DAMN IT!

 I have courage, hope, strength, and/or stupidity, someday I’ll figure that out but right now I just want to cut my feet off.

Vicodan here I come.  All I can do. Bitch out.