Saturday, May 19, 2007

drunk. no, really. apparently my mother's group friends, at least the two I've just left, do this all the time. but I felt like I had Bad Mother written all over my forehead as I walked home at 9.30 pm, three sheets to the wind, with my still-awake son. and I let him walk out of the pram. dh was asleep. still is. got home from overseas work trip trashed. declined social couple's night. sometimes I think I am a single mum. but with an income. and some babysitting if I want to swim on the weekend.

my copy of Cancer Vixen has arrived. it looks rad. and purple. NOT bright fucking pink my god if I see that colour one more time I will throw up more than I ever did in chemo. fuck hope and positive thinking. go pessimism and carpe diem. no nasty surprises that way yes, drunk.


read a profile of a brain surgeon in the saturday paper. thought it was safe to read, but no, he doesn't just do brain cancer, no, he does secondary breast cancer IN the brain as well. goddam. none of this applies to me. nothin' to do with me. nup. not me.

denial rocks. I walked home tonight under the stars and white night clouds with my boy holding my hand, talking nonsense, looking up at the sky and saying to a nonexistent god: I'm alive. I am here. I am alive.

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