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On the radio, I caught a snippet of song that stuck with me. The line was just "Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now." I feel like I'm to a point of much grasping at straws. There seems to be nobody that can give me the answer I want regarding her care, but I just can't bring myself to quit trying and leave her for dead. Airplanes exist and carry us bipedal mammals all over the world. We can share information on opposite sides of the globe near instantly. But the handful of treatments already tried are really all that there is? Nobody can just get rid of a few fucking tumors?
And now it's not just the tumors. Assuming that the dozens of doctors I've spoken with are right, she'll die within a year, probably within 6 months. In the meantime, her heart is failing, she shits through a hole in her stomach, and there are hoses going into her kidneys that drain into bags she straps to her legs. She's constantly in pain, despite the drugs. There is no feeling left in her fingertips or feet because of some of the pain drugs she takes, yet she can't sit down because it puts pressures on the tumor masses and hurts too much. I help her slide the shoe onto her foot, and she has to ask if it's on before beginning to walk, because she can't feel it and it hurts too much to look down.
Then there's the smell. The unsettling combination of blood, piss, and tumor puss that smells and looks unlike anything else. Objectively, I suppose it's gross. But personally, it's just terrifying. I'm watching the rapid deterioration of the woman to whom I owe all the good parts of myself.
She's spent her life trying to support, nurture, and teach 4 stubborn, lazy, unruly children and one schizophrenic drunk. Through her whole adult life, she's had barely enough money to scrape by and just live, and she's spent every spare dime on her ungrateful children and oblivious husband. I watched her patience and determination and, even at young ages, marveled at how she'd go without eating sometimes just to make sure she could afford to make a special meal for my birthday. Now she's scrambling to file bankruptcy so that she doesn't leave her debt to the same people who helped her get it.
She has always told me that she's proud of who I am and that anything I do will just impress her more. She says that no matter what I do with my life, I should do it because it makes me happy. She taught me to dream.
And now there's not a damn thing I can do to help her. She is dying. She will be gone soon. And if I ever accomplish a fucking thing with my life, she won't live to see it. All the time I've wasted on things that didn't matter, all the times I've rejected her for less important things, and now our time together is tainted with failed pretense that nothing is wrong.
We had been playing BF1942 for around 8 hours straight and we were all well and truely retarded. He had been waiting for one of the airplanes to spawn on Wake Island and suddenly when it did the whole LAN Cafe went silent only to hear him say "airplane" in a retarded voice.
there was a really, crazy tall, ladder with a jet plane balanced at the top. I had to climb this ladder and get into the plane. I was not very scared to climb up the ladder, i'm lying, i was scared, very scared, but i could do it. In the plane I found a piece of notebook paper split into 6 sections (3 on front, 3 on back). each section had a prompt in it, and i had to write a few lines of poetry or at least clever ideas in the section....i remember the last couple were hurried, and i thought the prompt was dumb. I got done writing and got extremely scared to climb out of the plane. I was freaking out, seriously freaking out, when my brother appeared, he tried to calm me down, but it wasnt working..the plane started wobbling on its perch..i was soo afraid that i was going to call my dad to come land the plane (thats how hight it was, and my dad is a pilot) this must have been the last resort, worst think i could do..my brother was trying to talk me out of it...i was just to the breaking point of calling my dad, when my brother convinced me to open the door and look to see if i might attempt to climb back down the ladder...i open the door only to find the plane perched on a step stool...i think that scared me too....