you can tell she's dying just by talking to her on the telephone...never mind the rising ca-125 levels despite the years of chemo...it's in her voice...the pain, the anger...the fear...and i just want to tell her that it's ok, she doesn't need to be brave for us anymore...but i can't find the right words, i can't say it without my own voice breaking...

me, breaking down, crying at long last...crying because i can't stop it, crying because...because...because.

how much time is left on the clock? does it do any good to wonder? i know. don't ask anymore.

auditioning a new potential therapist on tuesday...we'll see. this therapist focuses on "creative" approaches to psychotherapy, which will either be perfect for me or a total joke. kind of like the non-stop coloring that they have you do in the hospital.

i told her a little bit about my past with therapy but i didn't mention any issues other than feeling "lost" and not sure where my passions lie, not knowing what to do "next," etc. i also mentioned being dropped by my last therapist and the idea that it might be a good idea to have a female therapist this time around. at any rate, the first session is free so what could it hurt?

i'm both excited and dreading this...if it's a good fit and can help me than, great. but i also dread the therapy dance, my tendency to dismiss things that sound idiotic...i know my demons well. they've been carved up and served on a plate and reviewed to no end. i almost feel sorry for her, as i'm sure that first session is going to be me "reading down a list" of all the things that have happened with the pre-warning of "oh, i'll probably start laughing as i tell you all this -- that's my coping mechanism -- i'm not THAT ill..."