My
option? Whole Brain Radiation. The queen
bee of things I’ve been dreading and hoping that I would never be asked to
consider. I used to believe that if it ever actually became a thing that I had to do, I
would absolutely refuse and accept death.
Life
is funny, the way it works to make you feel like a boob.
In
the recent past, and in this blog even, I have spoken about people who take
horrible treatments and who fight to the bitter end as if their decision was
stupid. Well, I can say now that that came from a place that was puffed up,
prideful, terribly short-sighted and not
at all compassionate.
The
truth is that when my reality involves and “okay, you can go through
potentially horrible treatment, OR you can die in fairly short order in a
horrible way,” I choose the potentially horrible treatment that terrifies me.
Not because I am brave, but because I am afraid. Going through treatment I
believe, although billed as the nobler and braver choice, is truly the
opposite. Saying no to treatment and facing death – that’s absolute bravery.
I
hear this song in my head (totally unrelated to the tumors):
Cowardly,
cowardly custard!
Can’t cut the mustard!
Can’t cut the mustard!
So
now I eat my crow. I can’t not do it - the radiation. I’m not ready to die yet. So I understand
now. Why people keep seeking treatment. They’re not ready, either.
At
what point (if any), I will be ready, I don’t know.
In the meantime, WBR,
here I come.
