Thursday, June 03, 2010

Late-night wakefulness

I'm restless and I can't sleep. I'm nervous about the unknown; I'm not really afraid of sickness or of dying. It's... oh shit, here we go again. I know that I can do whatever this asks of me. I'm emotionally healthy and strong, and at least for now I feel physically well. I've done this before and I can do it again, though I won't know until tomorrow (at the earliest) what the protocol might be. I have no clue what my prognosis is. I can do interferon again if I have to--but I don't think that's a repeat choice. I've never been irradiated. The idea of radiation skeeves me, but I'll do it if it's what's in front of me. That's how you get through this: the next thing, and the next thing, and the next.

I know this is very hard to treat. I don't know what the treatment even is. And I know that I will never know I'm clean, again.

I feel like I'm betraying my body, if I don't trust it. But right now I don't know how to trust it. Body wisdom sounds like a lovely idea. My community flooded me with prayers tonight. I trust my people to be there. I trust God, though not for any specific outcome. I know I'm held and grounded in love.

I know I have now. That may be all I ever know.

I've been here before. I learned things that I will forever be grateful for; found strength that will help me through what is to come. But still. Fucking cancer.

9 comments:

Caminante said...

Or is it the sense of the body betraying you? Prayers that mind/soul/body split do not become too great though at times it may be useful.

Off to church to include you in the prayers of our healing service/HE.

When I walked with a dear friend who had melanoma, I shared this prayer (I did not write it):

The breath of my life will bless,
the cells of my being sing,
in gratitude, reawakening.

And we added a line about getting rid of the wayward, wandering cells who were not welcome.

eileen said...

Holding you in the light with prayers..

it's margaret said...

you are now in a place where I have not yet gone. you are my teacher now.

Grandmère Mimi said...

Prayers continue, my dear Kirstin.

David said...

dear, dear, Kirstin
i received your news via Paul the BB, Grandmere, Margaret and Jonathan. Sat here in tears and ache for you before I would either pray or write.

if this is what we're dealt, we'll deal- lovingly, prayerfully- all of us together.

'loved beyond your wildest imagining' in the words of the Giant of New Hampshire, you are not alone

and the love and the prayers continue

David@Montreal

Elizabeth E. Grey said...

fucking cancer indeed.

whatever you need to do, you will do it.

i won't patronize you- i've known many people with cancer, including my mother and husband. they both are living and (afaik) fine. others, not.

know that you're in my thoughts and prayers. i will hope and pray for the best for you, whatever that may be.

Kirkepiscatoid said...

You've been added to Trinity-Kirksville's prayer list, two time zones away. I really like the idea that when Sunday rolls around, of the possibility of prayers for you starting before you even woke up that day and continuing through the day. How many time zones, I wonder, are already in that cycle?

And, of course, you have my continued prayers.

Kirstin said...

Love to all. Thank you, so much.

Two Auntees said...

I did not expect to see this news about you. Know that you are in my prayers.