turn and return

I’ll be going to see my oncologist this coming Thursday for the normal scheduled check-up. I’m utterly dreading this – not because of the perhaps more usual fear of recurrence (I’m really not concerned; if there’s anything brewing in my bones, breasts, or brain*, it won’t be detectable as of yet) but because I’ll have to talk to her.

I don’t want to.

This is the oncologist who failed to inform me of the long term permanent effects of chemotherapy, and I need to talk to her about that. Not so much for me – that bell’s rung, and I’m not overly hopeful of solutions, though maybe I’m wrong – but so she knows.

And as much as I may seem to dwell on those effects (at least judging from this blog):

I don’t want to talk about it, it doesn’t do any good, it’s pointless, and upsetting; going over and over the damage, the pointless suffering, all the ways in which I’m broken, all the fine details. The devil in the details.

What I want to do is run away…

…but I’d only bring myself along.

*most likely spots – well, organs too, particularly the lights and liver, but that would have ruined the alliteration.

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3 Responses to turn and return

  1. andrew bunny d says:

    …lingering lumps in the limbs, lights, or liver? good luck, kiddo!

  2. What I want to do is run away…

    …but I’d only bring myself along.

    Love this.

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