Today was teary.

I just don't, don't, don't want to do this!

I don't like the idea of having a portable catheter sticking out of me for three or four months. I don't want evil poisonous drugs flowing through my veins. I don't want to feel yucky. I don't even want to plan what day to feel yucky! I don't want my hair to fall out -- I'm so vain about it. I love it! I love having people tell me how beautiful it is. I love it brushing my elbows when I wear it down. I don't want to feel tired. I don't want other people to feel like playing Visit Miss Scarlett Clue with Reuben when I don't. I don't want to feel too sick to read Harry Potter with Joseph, or to listen to Nathaniel's long narratives about his group's inventions during science class, or to read Sariah's saga about Silky, Milky and Bonquetia, or to help Bethany find fabric scraps for sewing stuffed snakes, or to take Chris up to the bell tower to catch unfortunate moths and katydids having parties on the huge lights. I especially don't want to feel too sick to lie next to Steve and hold his hand while he tinkers on his computer and I read.

Bad cancer! Back! Down, boy! That's chemo talking. But *@%#! I DON'T WANT TO DO IT!