In the truths that she learned

In the truths that she learned,
In times that he cried,
In the bridges he burned,
Or the way that she died.*

I don't want to die. Not ever, actually. If I could be immortal, I'd do it. But that's not a possibility. I certainly have no intention of dying anytime soon. That wasn't always the case, but it is now.

When I first was diagnosed with cancer, I thought, I can beat this. Even when I was told I had stage IV mets, I believed it possible to be "cancer-free".

So much pinkwashing.

I've come to realize that this is essentially a chronic illness. There is no cure. I will have cancer for the rest of my life and while I want that rest of my life to be a long, long time, I'm aware that it might not be, despite everything I do.

That's kinda fucking terrifying to realize.

I've been adapting to this understanding in bits and pieces. I've skirted around and cast indirect glances, like watching a Medusa through the reflection of a shield, by coming up with a soundtrack for my funeral, and I've looked it straight on without really thinking about it and wrote my own obit. I had to ease into the acceptance of this possibility the way you ease into a too-cold pool, or a too-warm hot tub. Inch by cringing inch.

But like the pool or hot tub, once you're submerged, it no longer feels as bad as it did going in. Sometimes it's even a comfortable feeling. I've decided I want portions of William Cullen Bryant's Thanatopsis read at my funeral, such as: Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night, scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

But I still don't wanna die anytime soon. I'd get my butt rez'ed and kicked for bailing out on a lot of people. I don't want my butt kicked, kthx. I promised I'd stay here, and stay here I intend.

But I'm starting to... realize that I've started the last three paragraphs with 'but' and I really need to stop that shit.

I'm planning my funeral, I just intend for it to be horridly dated by the time comes to use it rolls around. (Although I still plan for Queen, Stevie Nicks, and Pink Floyd to play at my funeral, because man, they're classic. The classics never go outta style.)

It's scary, but it's also liberating. "I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. When it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain."**

I was suicidal for a long time. Now, I have no desire to ever die. I didn't beat back chronic depression and lock it in a little cage to let cancer kick my ass. I'm never going to stop fighting for every minute. Realizing that I could very easily, and very quickly die from this didn't sap my strength or courage or motivation. On the contrary, it fortified it. I know there's no end to this war now. All I can do is keep from being overrun. The longer I fight, the more of the enemy I'll kill, and the longer I'll be here.

"If I'm going down, then I'm going down good. I'm going down, then I'm going down clean, I'm going down, then I'm going the prettiest broken girl you've ever seen."***

Being told you're going to die takes away the desire for it. Embracing the facts of it takes away the fear of it. Taking away the fear of it means a fuller, stronger, richer life. A stronger life means a chance for five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes more, and more.


(*Seasons of Love - RENT; **Litany Against Fear - Frank Herbert's DUNE; ***Let the Record Show - Emilie Autumn)