These wonderful, extremely truthful words come from my dad.  He’s right maybe we aren’t supposed to all have long lives.  It truly is how the world works.  No rhyme or reason to who gets all the the things they want and some get the short end of the stick.  A lot has happened in the last month that kind of make me not really want to write for a various reasons.

At first I couldn’t exactly figure out what was going on.  I have com to the realization that I am not emotionally equipped at this particular time to be a great or even good friend to someone who definitely deserves it.  It’s hard to say I completely understand where you are coming from but at the same time in a very selfish way want nothing to do with it.  My mental capacity just couldn’t process all that what was happening.  More feelings of PTSD were coming through that I didn’t even realize were there.  It’s hard to make yourself available both in presence as well as emotionally when I myself am still trying to rifle through all that is going on with myself.  It sounds so very selfish and that is the exact opposite of what I was trying to accomplish.  I needed to be a better friend and I just didn’t know how to do that.  I failed and I know it.  Hopefully going forward I won’t be such a jerk about it and tell this person that I know what is happening to them and any capacity in which they need me, I am here.  Or at least do my best to be there.  Ugh, sometimes I just suck.

Next what do you do with news you already knew was the truth?  Hearing it from a doctor as more of a finality or I guess just more of a 100% truth was harder than I thought.  I never really felt one way or another about kids.  Having them, I was mostly on the fence because I didn’t want them to be all fucked up like my childhood was.  That was the main reason for not really having the feeling one way or the other.  But as of the last year or less I had been thinking about it more an more.  I maybe wanted one.  I knew even wanting this wasn’t really in the cards for me to begin with.  When I was first diagnosed I didn’t have a chance to get my eggs fertilized and stored away for a later date.  So I knew in my logical brain that this was next to impossible with chemo, radiation, stem cell transplant and immunotherapy.  But going to the endocrinologist and having the tests run with results that I am menopausal.  My eggs are completely basically gone. Hearing those words from her mouth was like getting kicked in the stomach while already down.  Just another thing that cancer has taken away from me.  But I guess as my doctor put it I could always adopt, get an egg donor or get pets.  This is literally what she offered.  So I am pretty sure that if she is offering pets as an alternative that’s not a sign that I can have my own babies.  I have no idea even as I write this now it makes me so upset.  Tears are running down my face.  I am not mad, just really fucking sad.  Sad that I will never get the chance to have my own child with my DNA.  It’s like mourning for a person that doesn’t even exist.  It’s so strange.  I told my dad and I don’t think he took it very well, although I’ll never really know because we just don’t talk about that shit but I know it’s hard.

I am just a broken, damaged person that is hurting for something that I didn’t even know I wanted.  How fucked up is that.  I mean men can have kids until they are like basically dead, so what if my husband wants kids all the sudden?  I mean I can’t provide that.  I am so broken on a level that until your in this position you just don’t understand.  I don’t know how to cope with this emotional stuff.  It is so much harder than anything physical.  I feel like I am just walking around in a mental fog searching for anything to make it better.  Or at least let me forget, even if momentarily.  One positive is I won’t have to worry about my kid growing up to be an asshole.

Fuck, that got depressing fast.  That’s just how the truth is for me right now.  Fuck it, I guess that’s what therapy is for.