It is 5am on Wednesday morning. I have been up for about forty minutes, and then I just decided that some people just wake up at 5am, so why not be like those people today? Pain kept me awake alot last night, because I mis-calculated my pain medicine regimen and didn’t take a pill when I should because I didn’t want to sit up for 30 minutes waiting for it to be digested. Ho hum!!!! Here I am, at 5am.

Pain has been the most consistent feature of this cancer so far, although I don’t know if I am experiencing pain because of cancer cells, or because my lungs are surrounded by liquid that is swelling and pushing against them and against my ribcage. I am hoping for the latter, and that we can figure something out to reduce the pressure. I miss sleeping on my side, all snuggled up in bed with my husband, dog, and sometimes, a cat.

Last Friday I was diagnosed with a rare cancer called Mucinous Adenocarcinoma with Signet Ring Features. It is pretty funny since I am a jeweler, and I am experiencing the cancer cells that are shaped like pretty little rings from King Arthur’s Court. I am not sure what those little cells do in particular and need to do some more reading, but I get easily overwhelmed by Dr Google. Right now, as I write, I am moving a hot water bottle around my torso, getting relief from achiness. It works well, but I wonder if there is such a thing as a warming vest? (Just Googled – that’s a yes).

Last week I was diagnosed with cancer. I have cancer. I keep repeating that to myself and it sounds weird every time. I have cancer. I have cancer? What?

When people tell you that you have cancer, they speak really softly and nicely. They treat you kindly wherever you go (especially the pharmacists). What they don’t do is move nearly as fast as you want them to in finding a treatment plan that is going to work and make you feel better. That could happen ANY DAY, by the way. My first appointment is in two weeks. Two. Long. Weeks. What will I do with all of that time? Two weeks of waiting, two weeks of being patient.

Two weeks of writing? Two weeks of drawing? Two weeks of sewing? Two weeks of — anything. Perhaps during these doldrums of time when I am awake with achy-ness and pushing my achy bits against a hot water bottle, I can think about what I would like to do with this time. All of a sudden, I feel that time is ticking, time counts, time is fleeting.

How does one know what to do? Do I get angry? Sad? Vengeful? Wistful? Regretful? I spent the other night exploring regret and plumbing its depths. Do I do the same with the other emotions? It all feels exhausting and confusing and —- futile. But also, not. It is also eminently precious.

Goddammit.

I want to buy a new set of sheets because of all the time I am spending in bed. I ask myself: should I do this? Is this a ridiculous want? And then – why does it even matter? Because I have CANCER. Jeezum.

My life just changed.