The last few weeks, since my incision closed up and I awaited radiation, it's been like finding pieces of my former life. As if I stand at a battlefield, or demolished city, wreckage surrounding me, and try to assess the damage of what's left. There's the stench of death in the air, while some aspects of me lay dead at my feet, others are still hidden underneath the rubble. Wounded parts cry out for help, to be saved, screaming in fear that they'll be lost to me forever. I know I have to tend to them before they slip away from me, but while I try to save some I know it will cause me to lose other pieces of me. I don't know which to save first. I want to save it all, but I know it's too late for that. There's already so much that's dead, lost, gone forever. The girl I was before this battle started is gone, emerging from the fog and smoke looming in the air is someone who looks like me, but she's scarred now, both physically and deep within her soul