I should be sleeping. I am exhausted. Not only do I have this cancer, that is now in my lymph nodes, I have a raging kidney infection and the beginning of a cold/cough that the Medical Oncologist I met with today is hoping doesn't derail the start of my chemo and radiation next week. One more thing, on top of the one more thing that was supposed to be the one big thing. The chemo and radiation was supposed to be the beginning of a clinical trial that would give me an additional 12 weeks of chemo after the initial course with the hopes of adding additional percentage to my survival rate. After meeting with the Medical Oncologist that ALSO happens to be a hematologist and knew something was up with me and MY blood by looking at my file (he said he could tell I had either been bleeding a lot or had a blood disorder, which I do) now says that this special killer chemo will put me at even higher risk for transfusions and kidney failure than just the regular course of Cisplatin (which will put me at special risk anyway, because that is how I work it, in life and whatnot.) This does not make the clinical trial sound like the best bet for me. The Doc said a "normal" or "average" person going into the trial he wouldn't be so worried about, but me, different story. I don't make things easy. My body doesn't make things easy. Never has. I get embarrassed and hang my head when these realities are traversed. In fact, the doctor used the words Special Risk so often in our conversation that I told him to just write it across my whole file. My Mom just counters with my simply being special. I don't make things difficult as I always put it, I am just special. She's my Mom, that's her job. Her kid is super sick and what is she going to do? She is going to be the most amazing creature; wash and fold my laundry, read cancer literature, drive me hundreds of miles to doctors appointments, cook for me, talk with me, cry with me, laugh with me, give me permission to be as scared as I truly am. I feel special when I am with her. When I am with both my parents, and they are sitting by my side, in the waiting room, waiting for me to feel better.