Priorities

I need to get my priorities straight.
Here I am. midnight.
chemo begins in T minus nine hours. and counting.
and here I am. whining.
complaining.
cracking snarky jokes about fallin' off the wagon,
but they're trying to save my life.
Have I gotten SO adapted to having cancer that it's become an annoyance??
I've gotten so good at being a patient that I have forgotten I am actually under attack?
All day long, every minute of every day my cells are at war. They are fighting for their (or rather, MY) life, and here I am complaining.
How can I remind myself that I have a terminal disease which can (and chances are will) kill me, when I'm feeling so good?
Its been a nice couple months. I've been off chemo since february. And although I've been plenty busy with many many trips to hospitals, it was such a change of pace...the whole cyberknife thing...that I guess I just got too comfortable.
I got to accustomed to having my skin back to what I remember. To having my hair actually have a shine to it again, instead of the dull look from all the various chemicals coursing through me. I got way to comfortable not having any taste issues, and being able to eat and drink ANYthing at ANYtime I wanted. I was too spoiled to actually have fridays OFF.
Trivialities really.
Really.
Because in the grand scheme of things, why should I be so concerned with these trivial things when my actual existance is at stake?
I could die. very easily. very quickly. and with no notice. specifically FROM this cancer. any given moment or instance, this tumor growing inside me (or ones they don't see currently) can wrap around some key artery, or impede an organ's function, or anything. and next thing you know, no more Becca. I'm not exaggerating over overreacting.
But because I feeeeeeel good and healthy at this very moment in time, I seem to feel it appropriate to bitch and moan about the inconvenience of chemo.
Really.
Its an inconvenience. It gets in the way. It cramps my style. I have too much living to do to be bothered with sitting in an infusion room.
GAH I just want to SCREAAAAAM. Fuckin' chemo. I thought I was done with you! How did I ever manage to convince myself of that?
And so Here I am.
Here I sit.
at my desk. at midnight. trying to get my head right. And trying to organize my priorities.
It seems somethings never change.

I think I must have put my skin in the dryer and shrunk it

In my grievances for this week (well...been more than a week really), has been my poor battered skin. I do believe the Erbitux is the cause, but whichever of the various drugs is causing it...it's a bit too much for me to handle.

I have just holed myself up in my room, calling off work eventually, because being out among people is just a pain in my butt. Its not just that my skin isn't pretty. Really...who cares. But add on to it that it feels a couple sizes too small for me, its itchy, and raw, and stinging...all around miserable.

Chicago winters definitely don't help my situation. I can't even open my mouth all the way without stretching down my eyelids so much the bottom lid pulls away from my eyeball. THAT tight. And there's a lovely little patch of super raw rashy skin just under my chin that is so super tender to EVERYthing. It stings just raising my head to look up. So, I'm uncomfortable, to say the least.

I debated taking the photos, seeing as just walking past the bathroom mirror distresses me. But, since I told myself long ago that I want to document whatever I can, the ugly of it all..why not bare my raw chapped face to the world wide webs.

I have nothing more to say about it. I want my skin back. Amazing how seemingly little things could cause so much grief. Gah.