On good days, or during a string of good moments, I sometimes feel content enough. On bad days, I feel as if I’m already dead and am simply haunting my old life. I’m weak and there’s a litany of things I can’t do. I’m like a ghost trying to cause a light bulb to flicker or making a door creak. I’m taking up space in a world where I no longer belong. But I’m stuck here, like an unsatisfied spirit, doomed to wander through what was once my life. It now belongs to cancer, not me.
[…] “That’s not what happened,” I repeated. No one responded. I sometimes feel as if I’m already dead, but somehow still here. I wondered briefly if I had died and no one could hear me anymore. I would have tried to clarify […]