Ongoing Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I have it. There is no way in hell I could not.
Fourteen years of dealing with my own impending mortality. That one, I sort of have a handle on now. Not easy, but understood.
But the others. All the other people I have become so extraordinarily close to and then lost. Dozens. A hundred. More. Goddamn it hurts. And hurts with the knowledge that it is not going to stop–this ongoing loss.
There are reasons why I insist on embracing the battle metaphor. Cancer really is a war and I have been in active duty for far too long now. On the front lines against an enemy that gives no fucks. A relentless, nihilistic, take no prisoners foe.
Alive but with the knowledge that the only option open to me is to keep fighting. Even on days like today when I want nothing more than to have someone hold me close while I simply weep.
I am bent. Bent with grief. Wracked with sobs. Tired. Oh so very tired. But always battling; for me, for them, for all of us.
Rest in peace my friends. Now rest.