So I have survived 1/2 of my first round. Barely. I can't keep my eyes open, sooooo tired, my body hates me, and well, MY BODY FUCKING HATES ME. I can't really describe the feeling. Pain all over my insides. Like a burning pain. I have perfected the puke-technique. I am a pro-puker, to say the least. I feel it coming, manage to make it to the porcelain god, and not leave any trace of my existence. *Yay Me* I have no appetite and what I do eat comes right back up. So you would think that I would be looking Paris-Hilton-ish by now. Wrong. I have the steroids to thank for leaving my face Tom-Arnold-ish.
Wa Waaaa Wa. What a crybaby I have become. Complainer. Bitcher. Annoyer. Ect'er
On the good side, I am alive. Alive and well. Okay maybe not the well part, but I am alive. That is all that matters at this point. for the next 55 days, my life will be like this, so I better get used to it.
I just want to live. I just want to be a mom to my kids. I just want to be healthy again, someday. All those things I used to take for granite, I will cherish them for the rest of my life.
So far I still have the purple locks. My hair is still here. I know that won't be for long. Chances of me not losing it are slim to none. I am okay with this. I think. The only thing I worry about is my children looking at me and seeing a "sick" mommy. The bald head would be a sure indicator of a "sick" mommy. I can put on a happy face now, somewhat....but the baldness is a tale-tale sign of the C-word.
FUCK I HATE THIS!!!!!! IT'S NOT FAIR. AT ALL.
My aunt told me this morning: Rach, God owes our family a miracle, and I am asking him for one now. It's time our family gets some good news.
This made me cry. Our family HAS been through so many tragedies, I don't want to be another one of them. I want to live. I want this miracle. Call me selfish, but I do.
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