Whine, Whine, Whine

Don't read it if you don't want to know.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of waking up at 3am and wishing I could lay up next to Dalton without worrying about hurting him or making him feel self-conscious about his tubes. I'm tired of syringes. I'm tired of medicine bottles. I'm tired of brown goo. I'm tired of watching Dalton waste away and feeling powerless to do anything about it. I'm tired of USC. I'm tired of people who work with cancer patients and can't form complete sentences. I'm tired of spit cups and dry heaves. I'm tired of baby bottles and loads of laundry, grocery shopping, and non-stop cleaning. I'm tired of days where my goal is to fill them with so many tasks that I don't think about the reality of the situation. I'm tired of driving to Sav-on and having them know my name. I'm tired of trying to pray and getting stuck after, "God, please heal my husband." I'm tired of radiation. I'm tired of chemo. I'm tired of all work and no play. I'm tired of being thirty years old and feeling like I am seventy.

I miss laughing. I miss thinking about the future. I miss dreaming. I miss date nights. I miss fun. I miss watching Dalton get ready for work and kissing him goodbye. I miss cufflinks and dress socks. I miss getting up on the weekends and asking, "What do you want to do today?" I miss the previously taken-for-granted indecision that always followed the question, "What do you want for dinner?" I miss fresh air and days at parks flying kites. I miss teasing and being teased. I miss sarcasm. I miss passion. I miss being the eternal optimist. I miss looking on the brightside. I miss myself. I miss my husband. I miss life without cancer.

And I'm not even the one with the tumor.

Dont' feel sorry for me. Don't get on my case about the importance of a positive attitude. And don't try to make me understand why this is all happening. Just let me feel it. I promise that when the sun comes up, I'll have the syringes and brown goo ready.