It was my anniversary today. She is such an unbelievable person. If you want loyalty, don't get a dog, marry a farmer's daughter from Northern Michigan. Make sure she's not a drunk, though.
I'm in a lot of pain right now. It's not jack bower pain. It's an ache. It's pretty much all over. My hands feel like really bad arthritis. My head would feel better if if exploded. My midsection still pings with every breath. I have less energy than that Carol Burnett Show character, Speed. Tim Conway reference. My throat hurts.
The throat is the biggest psychological burden. When you were young, you used to get the flu and your throat would getmswollen. Well, mine are swollen beyond that point and it is all the time. My nodes hurt. I'm getting to the bottom of the tank. I used to wake up and tell myself I gotta rally and that would get me going. Now, there is nothing to rally. I was hoping this drug would bring me back and give me some strength to fight the next year. It is instead sucking everything out of me. And I just want to take my little girl to the park. Cancer is robbing me. It's robbing her. It's robbing her kids and her family of some or many purely happy moments. She'll have the crutch of not having her dad. She'll think that in quiet moments. Robbery. It will take a piece of her forever. She's going to be too young to even remember us going to the park.
It would be nice if, one day, hopefully twenty or thirty years later, one of you would be sitting around and thinking about something stupid we did together. And you decide to find one of my kids and maybe even after a long search, you call them and tell them. Twenty years later. Cancer gets robbed then. That bastard disease gets a little shoved back from one of my friends or family. That makes me feel better right now.