Does it ever get easier?
I walked on the beach for a few miles. My knees have hurt ever since.
I drove for a quick work trip to Columbus. My back is in pain.
I went to a baseball game. And packed my own food to eat. And skipped out on my favorite ice cream in a baseball helmet.
The trip my boyfriend planned to his favorite race is coming up. And he’s worried because this will be five times more walking than the beach, and twice as long a drive. He’s concerned I won’t make it.
And to be honest, so am I.
I’m willing to give it my best shot and try. Try to navigate the heat and crowds and traffic and walking and so much more. But is it worth it? Is it worth the money spent on a ticket and food and hotel?
I want to experience all of everything. I want to do these muggle activities without worrying about my strength or the arthritis or diabetes or pain that cancer has left me with.
But instead I’m crying at my desk feeling like damaged goods. And my body is damaged. I can’t do the things I once could have. And it does really suck. My body doesn’t look like what I want it to, due to the piles of toxins that once were in it. The stretch marks and radiation tattoos won’t ever go away.
Is it ever going to get better? No.
Will it ever get easier? Probably never.
Life kinda sucks right now.
My roommate and I have a shocking amount of medicine for two mid-twenties women. One of our bottom produce drawers in our refrigerator has been designated for said medicines. The drawer also always holds a few cold drinks. Hard cider, spiked seltzer, a can of bubbly and an instant cocktail grace the drawer alongside the piles of injectable medications.
Life doesn’t get easier. So we shoot the medication. And we enjoy drinks together. We commiserate about the pain. And sit on the patio to appreciate a summer evening.
Life doesn’t get easier. But most days, it is worth living.
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