I’m terrified of dying :)

I feel like the pain I have been waking up with
since they “removed” my cancer
via laparoscopic surgery
is letting me know
my body is giving up now.

They found new growth on my ovary.
My oncologist is jacked to see my Thursday.

The office said they “Missed my smile and sense of humor.”

Yeah.

Missed y’all too.

....

How was your labor day?

....

Right.

So the fact that I’ve evaded death this long truly is a feat of incredibility considering the fact I’ve had like hella opportunities to stop living. Both against my will, and caused by me.

I usually reflected, instead of feared.
Looking back into my kaleidoscope past with
acceptance,
understanding,
that I could have been exterminated...
but I wasn’t.

Now, I have no control
or choice
or reflective option.

My joints feel like somebody took sandpaper,
and wasted them away overnight.
My legs can’t spread.
My hips move like a Rubik’s cube.
My hands can’t roll.
My fingers won’t snap.
My shoulders won’t relaxmymind wontstop
thinkingaboutthefact that my husband could be without me and his mental health is potentially going to be destroyed, buthopefullymymotherinlaw she’sgonna she is gonna actually I know she’ll take care of them all, including both our toddlers. She’ll let Ty stay with her and her husband but she probably wont find him a therapist office because mental health is a taboo in the black community and he could sit there rotting from the inside out LIKE MY BODY IS and leave our children orphans and he told me a world without me isn’t for him BUT.

I made him promise to wait 5 years after I die,
if I die,
when I die,

before he kills himself.
I pleaded him to try and see if it gets better,
if he can withstand the pain.

He agreed for my sake.
He swore.
He pinky swore

and we both sobbed in our bed.
And he held me.

I feel like my time is running out.
The light of life inside me
keeps getting lower,
dimmer,

quiet.

There isn’t brilliance in it anymore.
It’s a warm glow.

I’m fading.

I don’t want to go.