Boobs- they're not just for dinner anymore

Nope, no better.

Jesus, why isn't there a .. oh, of course there IS. There is a pill for dat. Problem is I don't believe in taking those types of pills. Coming from a person who once let a magical street hobo stick his finger into her mouth, one would think I might not be too particular. But, you would be wrong. I can be very particular. Or just unravelled and confused.

Depression is like a heavy wool blanket, and it's not the nice heavy either, it's oppressive-heavy. Who am I to complain, I'm not doing chemo. The stuff I'm doing is not without side effects to be fair. Are they the long-term damage to my heart kind of side effects, liverkidneybraintillyoudie-side effects? No. And THATS why I suffer through the endless thoughts of "Am I doing the right thing?" "Is it too late?' "Am I ultimately going to die from cancer anyway?"- beCAUSE the other way is a dead end, and I know it.

This way is the harder road in every sense other than the pain of chemo. That's a big comparison. The reason I compare the two so often is because if I were a river, chemo is the ocean that I never want to reach. The oncologist is leading me towards that as if I am going to wake up one day and want to burn every cell in my body with poison. No fucking way will I. I would die in my bed up to my eyeballs in cannabis oil before I would EVER succumb to that pressure, uh-uh.

I have a headache, it's either the crying, or better news-I took too much Evo? Hmph. That's weird. My current oil is really dilute, so I have no fucking idea how much to take. It's literally like this: I'll take a tablespoon, wait, take another one, wait, another, wait.
Too much THC will cause a headache. That's just dandy, since I'm dying to do a coffee enema, that might clear that right out of there.
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