Manifesto
An open letter to my loved ones and anyone else that cares
This is my disease.
I own it.
You don’t.
Do not try to usurp if for your own purposes or benefit. I may have a very rare form of the disease but I assure you I can still kick your ass and make you sorry you ever tried to benefit from it.
This is my disease blog. It’s going to be filled with honesty. You may or may not like that. I’m sorry, but this is my support. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you or thank you for everything you’re trying to do to help. I truly, truly do. Sometimes, though, I do know best how to deal with my feelings – and that means taking time – just a little time – away from loving you.
Please don’t ask me to move home for treatments. I am home. It took me a lot of time to realise it, but I do realise it - and that’s not going to change.
And please please please please PLEASE don’t let my mother pull her crap on me this time. Yes, I know I’ve got this dramatic form of cancer because Jesus is not my saviour – and I won’t pray to any “deity team” that demands me to attend to a ghost. I know…I know. I get it. Bad me. Regardless, please keep her at bay because I’m not willing to deal with her making this her own right now. I have to deal with me. I have to care for me. I have to be selfish – and dogma be damned. Hey, maybe encourage her to go to church and pray the stations. That should help her to be useful and involve her in a way she understands.
This is my disease.
Please respect it.
I do.
(This is where I reach for the funny nose glasses and dribble cup…)