Stomped and rising to a crawl

Man I’m wiped. I’m contained and compressed in a wafer layers of weariness.Fingers burnwhen I touch anything with a slight chill on it. Nothing tastes good now. I think having a priomer coat of chemo, then going into the second round of chemo, hit me harder because it had a concentrated well-settled base.

I normally get up early in the morning, but today I struggled to slide out of bed at 11:15.

Yeah ,chemo and cancer won on a decision in this round. I feel like I’ve been picked up and thrown down over and over again. And the pain makes me cry,and the tears sting to–like having soap in your eyes.

Still, The Big see might be standing over me, as I crawl back to my corner. Butc crawling–I’m not stopping.

You might have thrown me down, but each time you have to pick me up to do that–the gravitas of me, as heavy and beaten as I am now, is going wear you down, and then–you’ll know the pain of a thousand crawls and falls.

I wince and dig in hard ith my elbows and search for the spark Cancer didn’t extinguish. How will I find it–I have the love of others.

I cough, and hack, a swampland of mucous fills my chest, and I’m racked with cough after deeper cough, making my jaws ache, as if someone was trying to chisel them off my skull.

I’ve never wanted to kill something more than ever my whole life.

And right now, that desire to kill cancer is more powerful than love–for it loves nothing, so therefore, I was slowly somehow choke the life out of it,