To Blog or Vlog, that is the question.

I look at the fish in this image and think, Just jump out, fish! Jump out!

But of course, it isn't going to. It's a still image. It is me. Me floating around in my fishbowl when the whole ocean I can't seem to access is all around me. Maybe an orca will come and chomp me up. Oh, wait, no. Don't do that, Mr. Orca. The bowl is made of glass.

I'm exhausted already. I opened the door to doctors and have been called, scheduled, poked, prodded, and scanned with urgency. Is it intentionally made so urgent that it results in my not changing my mind?  Well, it worked. Here I am. I already signed the agreement to do the radiation therapy, and my chemo has been scheduled. At first, they told me I'd be able to work minus the one full day of chemo per week and possibly a 5-day intensive radiation therapy. But when I sent the FMLA forms to the nurses, they called. 

"Are you sure that's what you want to do? Most people take the whole time off? You're going to be sick: vomiting, diarrhea, nausea," the nurse said.

"But they told me the nausea meds were better now. They said I should be able to keep working except for the chemo day because it takes all day. I can't afford to just take 6 or 7 weeks off from work. I've already explained to every doctor I've seen that I can't afford this treatment and I can't afford to take off work," I explained.

"Well, you're going to be sick."

"In the first week? How about we go through the first week and see how it goes?"

"Umm... I'm going to have the benefits rep call you."

Now I'm terrified. How sick am I going to be? And how am I going to afford this? At first, I thought I'd need to sell enough of my things to cover the $6000 deductible and a sub for 6 Mondays plus one week. Now I have to cover 7 weeks of time off? 

I start to imagine being in class during a math lesson and throwing up and needing to be dragged out. Or worse, I poop my pants. No one wants to see that. I definitely don't want to experience it. What if I pass out? Will all this sickness start during the first week? Plus, it put all this pressure on my co-workers.

I feel the need to write. To dump out the whirlwind of overwhelming thoughts. I reach out to the yoga studio. Maybe I can start a yoga-for-cancer workshop? Distraction. Keep busy. Wait. Should I write or video my thoughts? People don't read so much anymore. Maybe I should vlog. I have to raise some money. Should I do a GoFundMe? No. eBay, I think. I think I should make an eBay store. It's like an online garage sale. My kids don't seem to want any of this stuff, so I should just sell it. Facebook Marketplace, maybe? Both? Can I do both?

I look at old photos as I log on to my website. My dogs keep farting, and it annoys me. I turned the ceiling fan off because there's a cold front that came through, and it's 47°F outside. The heat kicks on, and the air starts moving around. Thank goodness. What did I feed them? 

All of the photos on my website remind me of the big block of time I spent bicycling, doing yoga, reading, fundraising, spending time outside, working, making art, writing, and traveling. I used to love holding those art workshops for kids. I really want to keep making art, share it, and teach it. I can't imagine lugging all that stuff around anymore, though. I look up how to start classes at the local park district and think it over some. 

I really loved teaching yoga, too. 

Maybe that's what my vlog can be. Maybe I can make online yoga classes. Do I have a good room for that? Not really. But I have an extra room. God, I hate video editing. I guess I could record it live. Maybe one of those yoga studios will hit me up and reply to my email about holding a workshop or two there. Could I incorporate journaling, drawing, or something too? Meditation? I should really write about how I "healed" my cancer the first time with nutrition, meditation, and exercise. I should really do those things again, even if I am doing chemo and radiation, but I'm not feeling it. I don't feel I have the energy to do all that again.

I did a lot. It would take at least 3 hours a day between the soup and juicing. And I kept working. I didn't own a car then, so I'd ride my bike maybe 20 to 50 miles a day. But hey, look, now I'm being told I must make the time for this chemo and radiation, and may even have to take all this time off work. What have I agreed to?!

The nurse writes me again.

"Are you sure you don't want to schedule the PET scan?"

"It's not going to change the course of therapy, is it? Is there time for that? Does she really need it?"

It seems like one thing after another. Of course, I want to go along with everything they're recommending. Or do I? I think about the actor who recently died. He must have had a decent amount in his savings. But he needed a GoFundMe or something? Died broke? How did that happen? ​If these wealthy guys are going broke because of this stuff, how is a regular person who poorly planned her life supposed to afford it? I don't know, but here we go...