What does coping with grace look like?

My dear,

OK, this is really hard. I'm already tired and sick of this treatment, and it's barely begun. Yesterday one of the imps's friends had a gymnastics meet here in Davis, and I really, really wanted to go - and I didn't get out of bed. She qualified for state competition, and I MISSED it. Waves of nausea keeping me home. I don't really mind when something hurts, unless it hurts a LOT, but I fricking HATE being nauseous - and chemo is really all about nausea. Already have mouth sores. Nothing tastes good. Nasty metallic taste in my mouth. Feel like hurling all the time. It SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS.

I'm going to say this once, and then hopefully not say it again I'm really, really scared and angry. I'm told that the average survival for someone with this beastly disease at this stage is 2 to 3 years - 50 percent die within that time. Fuck average. Average sucks too, at this point.

I can't believe how unfair it feels. I know that I'm otherwise in good health, and will probably beat those statistics, and blah blah blah, but it creeps up on me in the middle of the night. My daughter is TEN for goodness' sake. I want to see her graduate from high school! From college! Thirteen! How can I croak on her when she's THIRTEEN? And it could be chemo or other treatment ALL the rest of the time. No break for me, no break for her, no break for wertperch. Just chronic disease, horrible, debilitating treatments, and misery.

I can retire at 55. 10 years, 11 years - how has it come to me praying that I get 10 more years? Do you have any idea how many things there are that I still want to DO? I'm already dragging myself around like an old rag bag - my body hurts from having the port-a-cath put in last week, and still bloody sick from the chemo. I have two new scars on my left breast, and that's the only tit I have left. I burst into tears on Kevin yesterday, because I feel so ugly and sliced up, and how could he possibly feel any attraction to me? I feel like a car that's ready for the junkyard. Yup, right bumper's gone, upholstery is worn out, sound like she's blown a head gasket - you should probably consider her totalled - it'd cost too much to fix her up, at this point.

I still have hope, but it's feeling like a long, hard road, with no guarantees that I ever get to feel good again. Cancer as a chronic disease is still an ugly proposition. Oral chemo - for the duration. Clinical trials. Monoclonal antibodies. Bone marrow transplants. It's not like diabetes, where if I manage it properly I can live my normal life span. I can go ahead and do every single thing RIGHT, and it's still all a gamble. It may make exactly NO difference, chemo may just make me miserable all the time I have left.

I apologize for this, people. There's really no reply, I just needed to get it out of my system. I'm trying to put on a fairly brave face for the imp, and even for wertperch, who is taking all of this pretty hard. I needed to have a place where some of the more painful stuff can leak out of the cracks. You don't have to do anything about it, just listen. (Read?)

In a way, I feel like I'm the Queen of Lies with the "brave face" I'm putting on. I want to cope with some sort of grace, and I feel like I'm missing the mark somehow.

What does coping with grace look like?