Heave Ho

1.19.24- I wake uncomfortably. Megs alarm seems to go off around the same time. She snoozes it, I adjust my pillows. No use; I’m awake already. I’m a bit uncomfortable. I haven’t been through treatment in a couple of weeks so I forget what I’m experiencing. Gut punching nausea is coming my way. I’m reminded as I stand up to get dressed. I think I can fight it off. I pee, but as I turn to walk away I feel my whole body go pale. I’m ready to lock in. Nausea is nothing new to me. I’m a naturally nauseaus person who has fought bouts my whole life. The previous two bouts with these tumors brought me some shaman level nausea. The best way around is always through.

I grip my fists, I lean into my mental. I am going to get through this I just need to hollow my pathways. I begin heaving. The sweat starts pouring. I’m in it. Full on fight for the control of my esophagus. I’m getting relief. It starts uncomfortable, but with each throw of my body I begin feeling better. Meg’s comes to join me towards the end. I feel guilty as I woke her up from the final few minutes of her slumber, but she would have it no other way. She wants to help. She needs to help. She is my caregiver. She hands me several tissues to clean up and runs right back to bed. She needs to snuggle, enjoy the last few minutes of peace before going to the often stressful environment of Gorsuch. I feel better. I take the Compazine that Megs laid out and continue to the living room. I need my pen, coffee and I want to get in my zone.

Often I find that I have the best emotion to write in the morning. After a fresh night of sleep, I feel that my emotions are ripe for the picking. I set some scene music. This morning it is Audioslave’s “Like a Stone”. I think about the way the beat mixes with the lyrics to create a scene that is almost hazy. I can see clearly, and gather my thoughts accordingly, but it’s a bit foggy. It gives me imagery of melting down as the verses continue and building myself strongly back up with the chorus. “I’ll wait for you there, like a stone, I’ll wait for you there, alone.” This creates such strong feelings of protection for me this morning. I place myself in the scene as the author. I have moved beyond my love. Separated for a reason that is unclear for this story, but it is crystal that I am not content in moving on. As the music slows, “And on I read, Until the day was gone, And I sat in regret, Of all the things I've done, For all that I've blessed, And all that I've wronged, In dreams until my death, I will wander on ” From there I build. I long for my love, I wander for my love, I will not leave her. I will not be able to move on without her. It seems romantic, like an early emo-romantic idea. This song builds me to the end. As I wait for the last note however, I realize that the last words spoken are, “I’ll wait for you there, alone, alone.” It brings new contextual theories to this ballad as I realize the sadness that it may conceive.

Although the author discusses waiting, alone, it only paints the picture for one viewpoint of the story.  Despite the author showing his utmost love, to maybe a weird emotional love story level, this ballad does not dig into the thoughts and affections of his love. The author’s subject of admiration may have completely adverse feelings for the author. Or maybe not even differing opinions of the author, but just the situation in general. Although the author thinks it’s imperitive to his happiness to wait, alone, the subject of his admiration may have already moved on. Rightfully so. It is of my highest belief that it is appropriate to continually move forward. In spite of the author ceasing to live without the comfort of the one he waits for, it is the right of the subject of admiration to project her life forward, and not stall. It’s not even her responsibility to look for the author. They could be on completely different pages when it comes to this partnership and I think it’s important to note that both are within their rights to deal with this situation how they see fit. This is what worries me. I can love, and I can remember, and I can wait. Despite these “cans”, it does not guarantee that the subject of my admiration will come find me when I see fit. She has her own life to live. As I internally debate further it brings me joy. Hope. I need mi amor to move on. I need her to find health, wealth, and happiness in this World. It’s not about our future, unfortunately, it’s really about enjoying the present. We must enjoy each other’s loving company now as no future is promised. I love my babe and I have hope that regardless of what the future holds, she will find health, wealth and happiness. I believe.

I want to change my closet gallery out. I just got some new prints and I think it’s the perfect morning to get into it. As I switch out my prints and begin rearranging my frames I’m overcome with sadness. I’m sad, but I’m angry with myself. I don’t know what brought this on but I begin thinking to my relationship with my brother. I need to be there for him. I am just so fucking selfish. No matter what is going on outside I’ve always thought of myself first; Even before treatment. I think if I should invite him out here to experience a week of chemo with me. It could be really nice. I think I will. It’s hard. There are times where my brother wants to be apart of the conversation, and wants to contribute as much as he can. There are also times where my brother does not want to be bothered, does not want to contribute, and just wants to be left alone. When we were younger he definitely trended towards being left alone, but as we’ve grown he tends to want to contribute and converse more frequently. Here is where I have struggled. I have really not put in enough effort to transition my communication techniques with him as he has pivoted his eagerness to converse. I get stuck in the old combative ways. It’s unfair to him, but I think back to the days where we couldn’t have a family outing without a blowout. Conversation at dinner? Better be careful not to trigger the bear. But it really wasn’t myself or my father who has ever really triggered my bro. Instead it is my Mum. For some reason the way she breathes bothers my brother. She can be tough at points, admittedly, but her intentions are pure and she’s the best fucking mother a son could ever ask for. It’s beyond just a normal son getting frustrated with his mum. It’s gotten better in recent years, but there has been times when my brother has shown active disinterest in my mum and has gone over the edge with disrespect that he deals to her. This is where my struggle with the relationship with my brother resides. This is where my standoffishness stems from. I am extremely protective of my mum. I can be a complete asshole to her also, but that’s MY mum. That’s the person who has taken more of an interest in my life and helped me to grow and succeed more than anyone else. I have a hard time finding respect for someone who disrespects my hero. I respect my brother, I love my brother, I hope that our relationship improves, but I wholeheartedly disagree with the way he treats my mum. She’s my biggest fan, and although I don’t always show it, I am her biggest fan.