I’m in my childhood room right now and feeling nostalgic. I had a diary on OD back when there was a teen open diary and I wrote in it in this room. My last diary I kept when I was single and going through health and head issues living in a one bedroom apartment across town. How did I get back here?
Its always been nice to look back and now I can’t. Those diaries aren’t there anymore. If I wanted to I could of saved them. But all I saved was my book. Bookish. Bookishthingy. Well, my few readers will know anyway. Its how I started my last diary.
I have cancer. I try every day to tell myself “I have cancer” but it still hasn’t sunk in yet. I was having trouble swallowing on and off for awhile. I finally told my doctor after Atticus was born and he suggested we check out my thyroid again. He saved my life.
I had 3 large cancerous tumors growing on the lobes of my thyroid. All the lymph nodes in my neck were eaten up with tumors as well. They stopped looking at that point and immediately I was in surgery and then I was recovering. The surgery took 7 hours because of all the cancer they found. They didn’t even get to my right side before insisting they close up and do the other side another time.
They gave me radioactive iodine and now I’m on house arrest for a week until I have my full body scan that will tell me just how bad this all is. I’m numb to it. I was reading my little bookish thing and reminded of my best defense mechanism. Shut down and be numb. The doctors say I’ll be fine but nothing is ever just fine in my life. Its always fucking something.
I was molested by my grandfather in this room. I was held at gunpoint by an ex. I slept here after I lost my first child. And now here I am again. Another moment to put in the think of this without feeling it file. I miss my son. I want to hold him right now. If my parents leave me this house when they pass I’m gonna bulldoze this bitch down. Forrest Gump it. Who needs to remember this shit anyway? All I need is my son in my arms and everything is okay.
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