My dreams betray me. I dream about children... I've probably dreamed their whole life at this point. My mind went into overdrive - probably the result of just wanting what I can't have.
I also worry about losing my uterus. I hate bleeding... it's come back, and I did it almost nonstop last spring... and gee - after the hysterectomy I won't have to worry about that. But then it's because I'm losing something that makes me a woman. I'll be the broken woman, who can't give my husband the family that it's my duty to give him. I keep fixating on this. I know he tells me not to, but it's hard to stop your mind. In the moments that aren't completely filled by something else, my mind wanders around...
Sometimes it's good to think back, to help moods. My husband is a wonderful man, and right now, he's been giving me what I need. He gives me a purpose and a function when he asks me to do little things for him, which keeps me from wallowing in my thoughts needlessly. He also tells me and shows me how he needs me. It makes me think of this time last year... when I was about to embark on a little road trip that changed everything... a happy time when all possibilities were open to me.
No song today. I don't feel any music. I feel empty and broken. The doctor confirmed my fears - hysterectomy is next move. We will see a fertility specialist soon to discuss egg harvesting and surrogacy. It's totally surreal. My husband is holding me and being so wonderful, and I think maybe if I close my eyes this last year will be a dream. Like Sliding Doors - I've been living my parallel life... but I won't have the cancer... I won't have Wayne either, but at the end of the movie she got her chance again with the guy anyway.
Everyone says I should be glad I'll survive... I won't die... I'll have my life. It's not fucking enough. I'm sorry. I guess I'm selfish. I don't give a shit about my life, not when it means I'm a broken woman. I'll be an empty shell, no different than a male to female post op tranny. And my faith broke too. I had a major "crisis" in faith once before, when a very good friend died senselessly. But still, the way I thought things worked still seemed to be in place. Now, I can see I've been delusional. My entire life, I've had delusions of grandeur (it's a clinical diagnosis) and I've let my delusions guide me. In reality, I should have started vitamin D and a better antidepressant cocktail back in med school, and I'd be a doctor right now. I'd have plenty enough money. I'd be alone. I might still have the cancer, but it wouldn't matter, because I would still not want kids.
It's so silly to mourn something I didn't even want until a couple years ago... to mourn children who never were. Yet I feel this certainty now that I haven't felt in a long time - there will be no children for me. And I've pulled my poor husband into this with me. He's a wonderful man, who charms everyone he meets, and could have married anyone. Unfortunately he chose me. He helped me believe in positive outcomes, but I just can't at the moment.
Unfortunately, I think I'm going to need to see a therapist again. I hate therapy, my thoughts are so dark. I keep waking up crying. The only time I don't want to cry is when I can numb myself... drugs, alcohol, sleep, work... whatever.
The video doesn't quite match my mood - but that's part of the point at the moment. The doctor called Friday and the biopsy showed there was still cancer. He said "This concerns me"... oh great... so deliver news that concerns the freaking doctor on a Friday night so I can worry about it all weekend. I couldn't stop crying last night. I can only barely contain it today (I woke up crying - twice). I would love to be positive - but that didn't help before. I was positive and didn't jump to the conclusion that it's cancer... no one thought there was any chance of that, so why think it... then it was. I was positive and thought the medicine would take care of everything... the doctor wasn't concerned about the biopsy giving bad results at all... and then it was still cancer.
And I'm crying over crazy things, and I want to let my husband in, but I don't know how - plus he'll just want to hush my concerns. But I'm worried about him in all this. I'm upset that it's still cancer. I'm upset that the medicine has no effect on my particular cells apparently. I'm upset that the medicine that doesn't work has made me gain so much weight, I'll never get it back down. I'm upset that I can never give my husband children. I'm mourning over children that never were - but who had seemed so vivid in my dreams lately. I thought it was a positive sign from God - but I forgot the medicine makes the dreams crazy vivid. I'm upset to find out God isn't anything like I thought, if God even exists - at the most Wayne is right and God doesn't care about us little peons. I'm upset to think that what I had learned last fall, what I thought I knew and what I thought came straight from God was completely not.
And I'm sad I won't be able to give my husband children. I always get a little upset when he refers to his ex step-children as "my kids". I know Wayne has wanted children for some time, but had bad luck in that area, with crazy exes, etc. But, I only mentioned it a few times and managed to bite my tongue - because I knew I would ultimately be the one to give him his kids... and they would be our children. But now, I won't... and we won't really have other options open to us for various reasons - so now he will only have those children as his. And they will be his... completely separate from me, something I could never share. And also, always bittersweet, because they didn't get to be his for always. I'm feeling baby fever too, so I'm sad about losing my chance to be a mother. I don't know that I would have been good at it... but I would have tried my best.
And so I find myself biting back tears at a scene in a commercial with a blond mother and a blond daughter. I dreamed I would have a daughter with deep reddish brown hair - an independent fearless young woman. And a son with a funny smirk and gleam in his eye, who is always up to mischief, but like is grandfather and father, he would turn out to be a responsible, mature, wonderful prince of a young man. But these dreams float away in the light of reality.
And this is what makes me cry over this long weekend. And this is what I can't vocalize to my husband as he holds me and watches the tears fall.
