Burning the midnight oil, as usual. One, twenty, am. No biggy really. Not sleeping just means that I have pain, can't cope, remember, read or be employable. Who needs all that crap anyway? It's just glitter gravy on top of this uber fantasmic thing we call life.
Can you detect my late night sarcasm? It's all true to a point but, damned, if only I could get BACK TO WORK. I am FREAK'N FED UP! If the doctors put the kind of effort into helping me sleep as they did keeping me alive then I'D HAVE A FUCKING JOB. Why do they take my symptoms so lightly? I feel like when I explain it to them, they do a mental check and think, "Hmmm. She had AML. She's shit, damned fucking lucky to be alive."
If someone who didn't have cancer had severe insomnia to the point they couldn't work, they would figure out what's up, ASAP. But I guess since I had cancer then I should just be skipping along with a stupid grin on my face and chant how lucky I am to be alive.
"I'm so lucky, I'm so lucky, I'm so lucky..." Lucky, my ass! Cancer don't equal lucky.
Cancer never equals lucky.
I may just have a regressive toddler-esque fit and throw things... or maybe tomorrow will be better?