It hit me as soon as I entered the waiting room. It always does — that crushing weight of reality when I enter my information into the touch screen system. Yes, that is me. Yes, my appointment today is in oncology. Yes, I know I have a balance due.
It's so easy to allow myself to forget when I am outside of those walls. Until of course I have to apply the treatment or deal with the side effects. It can be difficult to forget when my calendar becomes crammed with appointments or well-meaning friends refer to me as a "survivor", but for the most part, the truth of it stays pushed to the farthest recesses of my mind.
Until of course, I am sitting in that office, or sprawled out in that procedure room — the air heavy with words we don't like to use — cancer, extensive, widespread, sexual function, surgery, biopsy, imperative.
I wish I could say it was sheer strength of character or some sense of not wanting to concern others that made me hold so firmly to this stoic facade, but no, my motivations are purely selfish. I'm simply afraid that if I ever allow myself to truly experience the myriad of fears that swirl within, it would only serve to render me crippled and helpless. And really, who needs that kind of fucking shit?