Since I’ve announced I am close to the end and since my article in the New York Times, friends and strangers alike have said a lot of nice things about my outlook and how I’ve handled cancer and dying. That’s just what I present, though. I also have some low lows. Dying is hard. Here are a few things I’ve done that are terrible, just this past week.
I threw my medication across the room in a full-blown tantrum after my mom told me that I would go to hell if I didn’t accept God’s will. I need to stop being so angry.
I tried to break up with my boyfriend after he said my going-away party would be too sad. I keep trying to spare him and set him free. I know I am trying to protect myself by calling things off before I feel like he is going to leave me, but I finally need to accept that he’s a good guy. I had to promise to stop breaking up with him. I don’t even want to break up with him ever, because he is the best. I need to stop letting my terrible last relationship haunt me. I also need to stop pushing people who are close to me away, because it’s not helpful.
I ignored a woman who I think maybe was yelling at me last night at a restaurant. She was passively-aggressively angrily talking to her baby and looking at me. I think she was telling the baby I was a bad person. I was talking about cell phone etiquette but I think she thought I was talking about her and her baby. But I didn’t want to engage, and so I ignored her instead of clarifying anything, and now I feel bad. People who passively-aggressively badmouth me to infants kind of scare me though. I should be more brave.
I cried when I received a plate of lukewarm duck at a restaurant. I’d spent all day touring hospices and deciding where to die, and cold duck at the understaffed restaurant was the last straw. I cry about weird things now because I sometimes don’t cry about the big things, like dying. Cold duck?! Why is the universe testing me? I had a similar meltdown years ago about missing an oyster happy hour after a graffiti artist blew off an interview with me. I really hate when cancer comes between me and fancy food.
Essentially, I am acting out of anger and sadness in inappropriate ways, and even though I know I’m doing it, I can’t help it. It’s like I’m looking at myself from the outside, horrified, and can’t stop it from happening. Dying is difficult and sad, but I’m trying to learn from my mistakes.
Fight on! And know that you have an army of people cheering you on, and embracing you with love and prayers.
Hi there, I am a long time blog follower and first time commenter. Clearly, dying is a messy, complicated, confusing and lonely business. It does not define you, however. You are a clever, witty, interesting, insightful, funny and entertaining woman who loves life but is having to deal with some insanely intense emotions caused by a body that is just not playing ball. If I can tell this from your blog, I’m positive your family and friends and others around know this as well so please don’t worry about being nice and polite and tidy. Your blog has actually been about the challenges of living, not dying, which is why I find it so special. Thinking of you.
Know that there are people out here you’ve never met who are reading your blog and in some small way walking beside you. I am so sorry you have to go through this. May there be moments of joy and peace and ease for you.
Your NYT article from weeks ago has stayed in my mind. (Last time I tried to comment, the site thought I was a bot!) It provided more comfort than you can know, so – my wish for you is that you receive and can accept comfort, and that others refrain from projecting their fears. I also hope that you can try to be kind to yourself. Nothing you’ve done sounds terrible – instead, it sounds perfectly, utterly normal! So send back the duck. Take the medication after you’ve thrown it. And have some super-fancy food at your party.