Let's be real for a moment, mkay?

I find it funny that I can't talk frankly with my friends about the fact that I'm dying of cancer. They say all the things friends are supposed to say, "Don't talk like that!" "You gotta stay positive!"

It's hard to stay positive when go through 4 pads on a GOOD day and who knows how much toilet paper.

(It gets worse. If you like cherry cobbler, stop reading now!)

It's hard to stay positive when you go to the bathroom, strain yourself for a good ten minutes for a pebble sized bowel movement accompanied by three different (more substantial) instances of urination. It's hard to stay positive when you go to wipe yourself and you check the toilet paper (GOTTA check the toilet paper, how else are you gonna know what kind of day you're gonna have?), and you say to yourself "Self? When did I learn to create Very Cherry Cobbler from my vagina?" (And I thought I had heavy periods. . .)

(You gotta have a sense of humor about these things to survive. Don't have to be positive, just have to laugh.)

One of my doctors going in told me I had something like a 40/60% chance to beat this. I told him all I wanted was until my daughter was 18. (I don't want her with any of the choices available to me atm. . .) That's 5 1/2 years. Don't think I'm gonna get that at the rate things are going. . .

Fuck.