Monday, February 4, 2019

Round 2 Day 3: The treatment is worse this round. I feel weaker. The first round was a wash. I have pills that I am supposed to be taking after day 10, and I'm supposed to take anti-nausea pills with them which I did, and I still threw up about an hour after taking the second pill for the first time. The pills have to be taken with food and I could not eat after that.
My doctor suggested that he find a new dosage that I can take, and we start over with the second round. Those pills are supposed to be taken all together four at a time so the doctor suggest that I take them like the others half at a time, and maybe start taking the anti-nausea stuff the day before.
The scans show there is new cancer growing and I can feel it. I can feel it as I get tired, I can feel it as my legs get heavier. I can feel it taking more out of me and I need to finish this treatment to fight it before there is nothing left of me. I don't even write much anymore. I can't read that much.
So with the updates all out of the way, I want to talk about family. There's an old saying that says blood is thicker than water. This is bullshit as far as I'm concerned.
Two Christmas's ago came down to Florida to see my family. Honestly I felt like I was dying and feared it may be the last time. So it's Christmas day and I'm too weak to get off my mothers couch. Too weak to pick up my cell phone really. My Aunt calls. My father is very disappointed that I haven't called him yet. She even says that she does not believe that I am too weak to do it.
So I call my father which of course by now is not a pleasant conversation. Why could my father not pick up his phone and call me instead of getting all mad? In fact I was in the next town over. He could have gotten up and come to see me. He could not make that effort yet he is mad at me?
Honestly I am disgusted  about the way I have been treated here. I have a lot of family in Florida and I can say one person has made the effort to come see me. That was my uncle's wife.
I've called my dad. He's never called me. The last time I called him I had just had my last surgery. That would be August two years ago. He just sighed loudly when I called like he was annoyed or something. Wasn't much of a conversation. At that point I decided that he was gonna call me next time, and I would wait and see how long it takes him to do that. I am still waiting. I am his son, so I know I can be just as stubborn as he can be. I don't owe him respect, I don't owe him anything.
On a side note my friends from Toledo did pack my stuff and my dog into a truck and moved it all down here. Plus they came down to visit me.  

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