First of Second (aka 2/1)

The moon over the “Royal something something.”

Trying to combat ever rising blood sugar. Cumulative radiation fatigue. The heaviness of remembering what I went through, what I continue to go through.

“Put on a happy face.”

No. I will not when I cannot.

I would have been dead more than 10 years ago when my pancreas failed if it were not for my never-ending insulin therapy, a life of needles, ceaseless monitoring of a complex disease in which insulin assists in keeping me alive, but not seamlessly, easily, or without a toll on me both mentally and physically.

And now this latest. Which can be treated, but can also come back one day. My oncologist told me that there is never a 0% possibility of that.

Very much regularly secluded since the pandemic, being around too much energy is something I just can’t tolerate for long anymore. I come away from it feeling anxious, then down. Not that I was ever a performing type, but these days, everything seems to be ever more acutely and directly intertwined with the state of my health. As long as I can be at peace and determine my pace in the world, I can participate and function. But let’s be real – my body is determined since my early 40s, in one way or another, to end its existence. In this way, I am from an older era.

But mostly today, I just want to stop the suffering creeping up on me, pulling me down into the dark, where I can’t separate feeling from thinking.

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