My grandma wants to send me to a healing miracle shrine thing in France.

…

I think if shrines ever work miracles it’s psychosomatic because of the visitor’s intense belief. I do not have that intense belief. I’m not Christian. And what exactly does she think will happen? I’ll go and the nodules in my lungs will suddenly disappear and my leg will grow back and my life will suddenly be perfect? I think if there’s a God and He wanted to heal me, traveling across the fucking world wouldn’t be a requirement.

Traveling when you’re disabled sucks. I haven’t been on a plane since the amputation, but I was on a flight right before it when I was walking with a cane (because my pelvis was so weak from the tumor that it fractured just from walking) and even just that sucked. I had to put it through to be scanned while I went through the metal detector (thanks, security, for making me walk on a healing fracture, that felt wonderful). It got caught in the scanner, and when I asked the guy supervising that area to fish it out for me he said “Well, do you really need it?” Um. Yes? No, I’m just walking around with a cane and a severe limp because it’s the funnest thing ever. Oh, sure, I won’t mind leaving some of my possessions behind because you’re too lazy to do your fucking job. What the fuck? Yes, yes I do need my FUCKING CANE.

I’ve heard a ton of horror stories about trying to travel when you’re disabled. I don’t want to struggle to get my crutches through or my wheelchair. I don’t want to risk them getting damaged or lost. I kind of need them.

I’m so tired.

My sister works second shift, so I’m usually roughly on her schedule. I wake up at 1 in the afternoon, go to bed around 4 in the morning. Hospital days throw that completely off, obviously. Yesterday I had an earlier then normal appointment, I had to get labs at 7:20 and see the doctor at 8. I woke up at 5:45. When I got home and went to take a nap my roommate decided that would be an awesome time to go into the basement, play the radio really loud, and do whatever the fuck he does when he does woodworking. All I know is that I can hear everything that happens in the basement perfectly. Why yes, I’d love to listen to morning talk shows and saws. That’d be great.

Today my dad had a family gathering type thing. It wasn’t the whole family, which is good because there’s way too many of them. My cousin, Rosie, was there. She’s about 13 years old. It’s kind of weird seeing her, because she reminds me so much of what I was like at that age, trying to act older then I was, playing around with my look (Rosie has blue streaks in her hair right now, I’m very proud), confused by family problems. She’s always kind of looked up to me and my sister, but we only really see them on holidays. I really wanted to just take her home with us, and get her away from her family and watch movies with her and bond or whatever. I don’t know. I wish it was easier to get together with her, but her parents are somewhat recently divorced, so she’s going back and forth between their houses.

My cousin, who has never written to me before, who is a youth minister, sent me an email wanting to know my beliefs, especially on death, because I decided to finally tell everyone that I’m stopping treatment after this summer.

I kind of just want to send him this picture and say “You’ve never given a fuck about me before. You really expect me to think you honestly give a shit? You just have a creepy crush on my sister. Converting me won’t impress her. Probably the opposite.”

…Instead I’ll write a polite email about my various beliefs and try to make it clear that I hate organized religion.

I just do not have the patience for all the people who are suddenly acting like they ever gave a fuck about me.