Elephant

The breathing got really bad again today. She's back in the hospital.

It's still too early to tell what the problem is. The ER doctor said something about a possible blood clot in her lungs ... in which case they'll give her a blood thinner. The thing is that they did all the scans in the world the last two times she was in the hospital to test for blood clots--and nothing showed up. My best guess is that her lung mets are the culprit. You hear people talking about lungs rattling, but actually hearing them rattle is a whole different thing. We take for granted how easy it is to breathe. To breathe deeply.

The thing is that only one of the several doctors that have seen her in the last few weeks have openly associated any of her health problems with her cancer. And I, for the life of me, cannot figure out what they're trying to accomplish in doing so. It's like her cancer is the elephant in the room--the elephant in her body. I mean, I get that all they can do right now is to try to balance out her body so that it's functioning okay. And I'm happy that they're doing everything they can. But all this talk about heart failure, and high blood pressure, and panic, and and and and--making it seem like it's her body that's failing her when it's actually this fucked up disease that's the problem. Take another Ativan and you'll calm down. Did you take your Laxipro? Oh it's nothing. Oh it's nothing. Fuck you.

I'm exhausted.

I owe all of you e-mail and phone calls ... and promise to get to that soon. Really quickly, though, thank you SOOOO much for the photos, the bedside bottles, and all the other distractions and kindnesses of all varieties. All of it means worlds to me ... and is what pulls me through the days. Thank you, dear hearts.