Glioblastoma Multiforme: Oh, Glee, Blast, For Me X 10

My mother keeps telling me every single day that she is praying, everyone is praying, the NUNS* are praying … for a Miracle! That I shall be CURED! (*We aren’t even Catholic.)

And yet, my instagram “friends” keep dying every single day. Like Nick. He died 8/23/2016, last Tuesday, while I was sitting at home feeling sorry for myself.

How can I tell my mother there is no hope? This is not a curable cancer? To stop telling me that the nuns are all praying and to just accept that I’m going to die from this…and to try to get to know me before I’m dead?

Even some of my friends are in denial. “What about the study?” they ask. [There are scores of gbm studies going on at any given moment. The chance that *this* one will find THE CURE is unlikely.] “I’ll still pray for you,” they say. [Thanks, I hope it brings you comfort and makes you feel as though you’re doing something.] “Don’t Give Up. You can beat this!” they cheer. [Well, I suppose that depends on what your definition of ‘winning' is.]

Or, my FAVORITE, “You don’t HAVE brain cancer. ALL of the cancerous cell could’ve been killed by the radiation.” [Uhm, glioblastoma doesn’t work that way. The PURPOSE of the radiation is palliative. The purpose of the ENTIRE STUDY is palliative, quite frankly.]

The hardest thing about all of this is that when I feel like I’m finally in a place where I’ve accepted that whatever is going to happen is OK…someone comes along and seems to feel that this means I’ve given up and they feel the need to Restore My Hope!!!

There is no point in hoping for something that is 99.99997% likely to result in Disappointment.

Once again, I don’t think I can do this.

This is not a very ‘good' post. I am aware of that. I don’t care.