A Pain in the Neck

My birthday was Saturday. It’s my last birthday.

Three years ago, I was in celebrating my birthday in Glasgow, Scotland. Two years ago, I was in California to see my friends and Depeche Mode, and my boyfriend at the time got upset and tried to leave me and a friend at the Hollywood Bowl and my finger got broken and I realized that he charged my birthday dinner and $500 worth of hotel rooms to my credit card and had been funneling money from my savings account. That birthday could have been better, but I managed to have fun without the spectre of his anger hanging over me, and it put me on the road to independence. (Sadly, I wasn’t strong enough to leave then, and I am forever grateful to the London Pilates instructor with whom he now lives. I sometimes feel bad for her, but I figure an op-ed in the New York Times is a fair warning.)

Last year, I was at a resort in Bermuda with a friend. I had always vowed to get back to Bermuda, and I’m glad I got to see its pink sand beaches one more time.

For this birthday, my boyfriend got me and some friends a boat trip down the East River, sailing to the Statue of Liberty, misidentifying New York City landmarks. A friend made a cat cake. It was such a good birthday with some of my favorite people. I couldn’t stay out too long though, because I felt fatigued. It lasted through Sunday and Monday, and I’ve spent a lot of time sleeping.

Overall, it was a nice last birthday. Time stops at 42. It’s strange.

I’ve been trying really hard to hang on, but ever since I got a cold and then pneumonia a few weeks ago, I’ve felt like I’ve been inhabiting a corpse. I’d promised that if I ever got to this point—to daily IVs that require a needle in my chest, to diapers, to crippling fatigue—I would go to hospice. However, I’ve had things to do. I wanted to live through my birthday. I want to live through my boyfriend’s birthday and Halloween and a friend’s visit.

Then I can go.

It’s strange after this past year of thinking this could be the last to this is definitely the last. Some things snuck up on me and I didn’t notice. My last yoga class. My last plane ride.

I feel like I’m dragging a corpse around. I’m so tired. I look at emails and can’t answer them. My lymph nodes hurt. My stomach and intestines hurt. My neck hurts. Everything hurts and I’m tired. Physically, I’m ready to go. I just have a few more things to do.