I hate cancer. I hate how my life has been compromised by it. Everyday I have to deal with a slew of health problems. It's tiring. I'm tired of gritting my teeth and clenching my fists as pain randomly surges though my body. I'm tired of going into a fetal position whenever with my stomach churns angrily. I'm tired of battling nausea.
In fact, my latest battle with nausea resulted in a sprained foot. As I violently vomited into the toilet while kneeling on the balls of my foot, I tore some foot ligament. So I've been moving around in crutches for a few weeks. My hands hurt; my armpits numbing; and my good foot is becoming a bad foot. My limited mobility is like a reflection of the limits of my life with cancer - what I cannot do; what I cannot have.
I'm tired of fighting. I want a break. If only I could rest on the sidelines and watch myself prevail without dealing out the punches and suffering the bruises. Unfortunately, it's an endless war where rest stops are nonexistent and there is no choice but to march on.
