I had a pretty bad few days. Well, Marina kept you in the loop. Bad news and more bad news, followed by my body saying "fuck it, if the news is just gonna be bad, why try?"
So I had some dialysis and a wonderful cocktail of medicines to try to fix the rest of me. I can't have chemo again until my body is strong enough to handle it, but since I can't have chemo my body is getting weaker. Somethin' 'bout this 'ere don' seem righ' ta me. *spits*
Before I was going to be admitted for the dialysis etc, I had a long talk with Marina and we decided that I'm stupid. Apparently she knew this all along and still loved me anyway. I was too stupid to realize I was stupid, of course. We decided that she should fly down to visit me. Turns out she doesn't care that I look sickly and weak. *shrugs*
I went into the hospital and spent a few days worrying hardcore about meeting her. What if she was really an immature teenager? Would she still love a creepy old gay man?
Meeting her was a lot easier than I thought. She arrived at the hospital and pranced into the room and immediately did a strip tease. Of course I was asleep, so she may not have stripped. *shrugs*
I can say that I was having a pretty awesome dream about her... and then I felt something brush my face so I woke up... and it was a million times better than the dream. I don't think waking up ever felt so great.
My gut instinct was to cry. I'm man enough to admit it. But I wasn't man enough to do it right away. I held it behind my dashingly dopey grin until I kissed her. Then I cried like a baby. But it was cool, her shirt was absorbent.
I won't go into too much detail about our weekend... but I will say hospital beds can accommodate two. *wink*
I was feeling pretty damn good. Marina makes everything better, really. She didn't even mind when I got up every hour to take a shit. She was all, "You need anything? Can I help?" I'm sorry, but that's love right there. I love a woman who'll wipe my stanky ass.
When even more bad news threatened to ruin our weekend, Marina poked it in the toe with a pointy stick. It's true that my kidneys are pretty much shot. I would need a transplant, but my body isn't strong enough to handle that. It's also true that my bone marrow is all cancerfied. Again, nothing we can do about that until my body stops being such a pussy. It's true also that my spinal fluid has been spiked with cancer, but unlike punch spiked with Captain, this is not good. Basically... the chemo wasn't strong enough to do its job. They underestimated the cancer and overestimated my kidneys and the bottom line was... even with continued dialysis and eventual chemotherapy, my body just won't be able to handle more than a few years of rockin' hot sex with Marina. *giggidy*
Now, if I was alone when I got that news... I'd have thought... two to five years is simply not enough. Especially two to five years of my body slowly decomposing around my super-quick-witted-brain. It would even have made me wonder if zombies also have super-quick-witted-brains inside their decomposing bodies. If so... then I would be no better than a zombie. And why even try to fight cancer if I couldn't fight zombies??
But I wasn't alone. I looked Marina. Marina looked at me. She shrugged. I didn't inhale or exhale for a little while... scared of, "Oh well. Good luck with that. I'm outta here" which would have been a million times worse than the idea of dying a slow, zombified death. She said, "Ok. So what do we do next?" And we talked about what we could do to get the most out of those five years (because if there's a maximum, that's what we're focused on) and how there will be more things to try in those five years (because there's always new medicines and things) and how I'm simply not allowed to die, because she'd kill me if I died. I don't want Marina to kill me. That pointy stick she pokes people with is painful.
So even though the news is bad, the outlook is good. I think I can handle a slow, zombified death as long as I get to wake up next to Marina every morning.
I'm not happy about my situation. I fuckin hate cancer. I'm scared that I'm going to die. I'm cranky because my body is my worst enemy right now. But I am happy with Marina. She reminds me that everything is going to be ok. How could it not be? She's ridiculous!
Now. The aftermath.
Marina left. And I didn't think it was possible to miss someone this much. I'm pretty sure the cancer misses her too. It kept me up all night with its pathetic weeping. Luckily she will return soon to pet my bald head, watch Bourne movies, give mai face her kisses, and laugh at me as I fwomp all over the place.
The end.
P.S. I have two to five years to get an (arctic) foxee key on fluff. That's like, what, less than 1lg a day? Fuck yeah. (arctic) foxee keys cure cancer!
