Outside Looking In?

Nov.17/10 0330 PST Outside looking in. Each day I try to find something to be grateful for . Within each 24 hr period I usually succeed to some degree. I can not recall what it feels like to get up and not feel extremely ill . It has been so long since I have felt anywhere near being comfortable within my own skin. If I did not have these cancers and felt the way I do right now , I would be dialling 911 and going to the hospital. If your semi-healthy and reading this , you would be too. Instead I’ll take some pain medication and hope for the best. Different set of pains in different parts of my body constantly torment me now as does the “bone deep” fatigue. The fatigue! I can sense the energy required to move my fingers or even lift my eyelids. Writing this takes the effort of running a marathon. For some reason it is important to me. The discomfort keeps me up regardless of the narcotics. (The pain medication “numbs” but the discomfort from the pain persists. This is an aspect of “pain management” that nurses , doctors, anyone healthy for that matter cannot seem to grasp.) Up at 0200. ( I cannot lay down for more than an hour at a time ) I try to get some sustenance into me . Keep trying to get moving . I sip on heavily sugared coffee. Concentrate on putting the discomfort aside . I put some music on. Push , push , push. I seriously consider if this will be the day that I will die. Then sometimes by 07 or 0800 ,I have mustered enough of a grip on life to function for a few hours. Those few hours are precious to me. I do not want to waste these moments. Disassociating myself from my body is becoming more difficult as is finding something to be grateful for. I will keep trying though. I was considering pushing for more treatment( maybe radiation in parts of the body that are not maxed out with radiation already or experimental chemotherapy) and partaking in alternative treatment (supplements). The reality is that this would require reliable and consistent assistance , as would trying to do some “livin” during my last days. No one has stepped up to the plate to help. This hanging on while dying for me is a scary solitary affair. There is a gale force wind howling outside . The ocean is seething and frothing about 60 ft. in front of where I am now sitting. This humbles me. I find some comfort In this humbleness. I live by the day now. May be today? Maybe tomorrow?  (slowdeath2-azab.blogspot.com)