Back To Black

over 2 liters of relief from my abdomen (actual photo)

I loved her raspy voice from smoking too many cigarettes, and probably doing too much blow. I loved her music before she hit the mainstream radio circuit. She was a seemingly smart girl who could sing the life into a dead tree trunk. Her songs were sometimes dirty and dusty - too old for her youth. Her cancer was addiction and I take one of her hits and make it my own; I keep going back to black. Her back to black was bad and so is mine. Of course, she was Amy Winehouse and I'm me - night vs day. One difference is my black has the ability to kill me into living again. If my poisonous black works, it could possibly give me a year or even two.... time to stall and wait for the next nasty bet.

I've had no time for regret, sore lips licked wet

This is the same old nasty bet 

Me and my head high, and my tears dry 

Get on with my life I try

Chemo takes me back to what we know, so far removed

From all the living I will have to throw
And I tread a troubled track, my life is stalled
I'll go back to bald

I don't want to say goodbye with words

I know I'll die a hundred times 

 It's the same old nasty bet

And I go back to, I go back to sick and bald

I love life so much, it's not enough
Cancer loves death and I love the shore
And life is like a dream
And I'm a tiny pebble rolling against the stream

I never want to say goodbye with words

I will die a hundred times
Life will go on without me 

And I go back to...

We only said goodbye with a glance
I died a hundred times

Life will go on without me
And I go back to...Black, black, black, black,black, black, black,
I go back toI go back to...We only said goodbye with a glance
I died a hundred times

Life will go on without me
And I go back to

We only said goodbye with a glanceI died a hundred times
Life will go on without me

And I go back to bald.... and black

My black isn't a hole - it's mixed with hope. This black is my THIRD time doing chemotherapy. I don't know anyone like me. I've never met a gal who has/d ovarian cancer, that started in her thirties like mine did and is still alive after not one recurrence, but TWO in less than 4 years. She doesn't exist - except for me that I know of. I'm her. It's lonely going back to sick and bald... and black. 

A few days ago, I had well over 2 bursting liters of malignant fluid drained from my abdomen. On the scale, the next day, I was 12 pounds lighter! It's not the weight (fluid) I lost but the life I gained! I'm like a new person - I can move and I can breathe again!

I'm scared of going back to that horrible place. Chemotherapy. For years people have told me about this chemo drug that they refer to as, The Red Devil. They ask me with a suspended voice, "Did you ever have to DO the Red Devil?!". I thankfully say NO. But now the time has come and I'm doing Carboplatinum along with the famous Devil.... The Red Devil. I'm terrified yet I have hope. 

I recently internalized that hope doesn't mean false expectations for something nobody can promise me. Hope can be any pathway to a better place. A positive place. Hey, I can probably teach a seminar on what hope is! This is a new revelation for me. I once thought that remission meant I was clear of cancer and that was a mistake I won't make again. I will never be clear and clean of the beast that is deathly and nasty enough to take the life-breath out of a human being. I can make each day worth living and I can hope for a better tomorrow.

So, yes, it's back to black.... I'm scheduled to start chemotherapy May 1st.... May Day! May Day! Hope. Love. Faith.

Please keep me in your prayers: Ahava Emunah bat Chava Ehta