Darian's Not So Secret Diary

It's a mix of feelings I have today, I'm thrilled to say that I am officially halfway through my chemo treatments. No more Red Devil for me, not ever. I felt like they should have been singing "Livin on a Prayer" while administering it. Nurses just belting out "Whoooaaa, we're halfway there. Whooaaaa, livin on a prayer..." Because really, how appropriate is that, but apparently karaoke chemo isn't a thing. I'm thinking that should be a thing, but okay. And now you have that song stuck in your head too. You're welcome. I'm also happy to report that I am in deed less cancery than I was previously. High five chemo for doing your job! I haven't had any recent scans, but I know just from the feel. There's a lot less cancer action going on in there, a lot less of that nasty thing trying to kill me. But being you know, semi-filled with cancer still, you can't help but think about the what if's. What if the doctors can't g

It's not like I didn't know it was coming, like somehow I would be spared the inevitable. Every day, as I run my fingers through the shaved fuzz on my head, I look at my hand wondering, is today the day? Is today the start of another transformation? Is today the day I look like a cancer patient? And as I looked down at an empty hand, I exhaled. Today wasn't the day. Today, people would only still wonder, was I a patient, did I shave my head in support of a patient, was I a feminist trying to prove a point? They could only wonder. The other night while my husband was at his bible study I was sitting on the patio, taking in all the fresh air I can before the air turns too cool to sit outside, forcing me indoors. I took a long breath, ran my hand across my head, and looked down at my palm, covered in hair. Today was the day... I blew the handful of fuzz off my hand, and then pinched a small cluster and pulled. I felt nothing, it didn't hurt, but there between my finger