Depression

I’m depressed.
By definition, depression is anger turned inward on oneself due to the thought process that it is not safe to outwardly express ones anger.
I am angry.
I’m angry I live in my perfect little house with my perfect little family, romping around in this exteriorly perfect little body of mine and my perfect group of friends all put together so perfectly, and I may not going to be able to enjoy it.
Worst of all, for all the outward perfection, my insides are just one big cantankerous mess.
I’m angry I have done everything within my realm of knowledge to get better and I still have cancer.
I’m angry I may die of cancer when so many others out there are trying to convince doctors all over that they are “disabled” for the free checks.
I all ready went through my “why me” phase, but damn, why not somebody else?
Why not one of the drug seekers from the emergency department that has three kids by three different daddies and one tooth by the age of twenty-one? They would certainly enjoy the prescriptions I have. They spend their lives trying to get them. They spend their days consumed by their habit. Why not add a little refractory cancer to the mix and give me my life back?
But it doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t work like that because life isn’t fair.
Good people that contribute to society get cancer. Young people with families get cancer. Intellectual people who busted their ass for an education get cancer instead of a career. I’ve cancered my career indefinitely.
I’m now pursuing other goals, like surviving until I’m thirty.
Why am I depressed and not angry?
I’ll tell you why.
If I really let all the anger out that I’ve pent up over the years all hell would break loose. I’m afraid I’d incite a riot.
I need time to clear my head. I need time to channel my rage.
I’m busy trying to intellectualize my disease and sublimate my rage. These are my two favorite coping mechanisms. I’m going to understand everything I can about Hodgkin’s and related blood disorders and all the possible theoretical theories to treat them.
That helps calm me down a bit.
Then I’m going to take my knowledge and apply it towards myself in some self experimentation. This is me sublimating. I’m doing something socially acceptable with my rage instead of doing something crazy and unacceptable.
I’m experimenting with myself. Some people call their body a temple. I think my body is a temple, but right now I treat mine more like an amusement park.
I think this is going to be FUN. It’s the most exciting thing I’ve got going for me now.
I’m also planning trips. I’ve got big things coming up, big things.
I’m going to my sister’s house next week with Xander and mom. I have a couple appointments at DF and I figured I should just make a mini vacation of it.
I am experiencing a cabin fever like you wouldn’t believe.
If Alyea would loosen the reigns I would be far, far away on a beach right now.
Actually, to be honest, I’m thinking about tagging along on Allen’s business trip to Paris for free lodging so I can see my German Lymphoma specialist at the beginning of March.
The beauty of this trip is that I get to go to Paris, with free lodging, and write off what I spend (within reason) as a health expense. YAY.
But that’s still not making me completely happy.
X and I may run off to FL to my grandparents house and hang out on the beach, or of course, at Disney (which I’m sure I can’t avoid with X in tow).
My girls from NY are coming to visit for broom hockey weekend the weekend after next. Against restrictions, I will have Colette, Laurette, Daisy, Maggie, and Noami staying with me, along with Daisy’s stepdaughter Havanna and Maggie’s kids Aryanna & Dominic. All these people alongside me, J, X and Lex.
It’s going to be a mad house. I’ll be sure to post video so I can formally introduce them.
I’m sure many of you have never met a person like me before. Now stop and imagine a house full of women like me, many of which are louder and more crude.
That will be fun.
But as of right now, this moment, nothing is making me feel better. I just want to sleep the blahs away. The news that stem cell research is beginning in America that I received yesterday is not making me feel better.
The restrictions stayed too long and I’m all ready on the wrong side of the prognosis spectrum.
All the information I have, all the names of genius researches from Columbia, MSKCK, and AD Anderson doesn’t make me feel better.
I don’t want to trek around the country and the world wasting precious time I could be spending with my loved ones, asking for treatments that will make me feel worse, that will further diminish my vital capacity, all for what? To extend my life how long?
Yes, sir. Again I’m being realistic, not pessimistic. I’m probably going to die.
You know what makes me more depressed, I’m not worried about death. Death is not what I’m scared of. I’ve lived my life how I want. I am not afraid of dying.
I am sad about losing what I have in life. I am sad for my family, friends, loved ones and supporters, especially for my son, who I know will remember me during the happiest, biggest moments of his life and wish I was there.
I’m sorry and sad for him that I may not be.
I’m depressed and it’s not really about me. If it was just me, isolated, I would be fine. What makes me sad is how everyone else will have to go on. I don’t want to leave an emptiness in anybody’s life.
All the love, support I receive, that I’m so fortunate to receive, reminds me of the hole I will leave, even if I am comfortable with the life I have lived to the fullest, without regrets.
It hurts right now. I just hope it won’t hurt for too long.
***This was written several days ago, I'm doing much better today.****