The Light I Leave On (and Why)

I’m scared of the dark.

I have been ever since I started having issues with my eyesight back in 2005. When I’m in an unfamiliar place, I tend to sleep with the lights on—like in a hotel at MD Anderson.

I’m back at MD Anderson for the second week in a row, getting ready to have a chemo port placed tomorrow. The day after that, I start an aggressive chemotherapy protocol.

By all accounts, I should be terrified. And I think, deep down, I am. But I’ve been doing a pretty good job of not letting myself feel it—not really. Not yet.

Today alone, I fielded no less than a dozen calls from nurse practitioners, clinical specialists, doctors, and other well-meaning professionals. They all walked me through what to expect in the coming days. One talked me through the port procedure—how they’ll cut me open and attach a nickel-sized device to one of my major arteries so they can run a line straight to my heart. You know, so they can pump poison into me more easily. That one will haunt my dreams for a while for sure…

She also went over all the risks, most of which sounded like plot points in a SAW movie.

Then came the chemo prep—and the complete bonkers  list of side effects.

You know those drug commercials where they casually list horrifying things like “Side effects may include…” and then list some of the crazies things you’ve ever heard in your life?  Yeah. This was like that. But worse.

After the first few—eyeballs melting, spontaneous combustion, an inability to survive without witchcraft—I just started tuning out. It was the only way I stood a chance at ever sleeping again.

If it’s not obvious by now, one of my best defense mechanisms is stupid humor. I crack jokes because it keeps me from cracking open. And writing this, it’s becoming clearer to me that I am scared. Not just about tomorrow, but about everything that comes after.

Like with the dark, it’s not what I can see that scares me—it’s the unknown.

What will life look like when this is all over?
What if it’s never over?
What if it is?

I’ve been telling myself I’m not that scared. And maybe on the surface, I’m not. But now that I’ve written it all out… I am.

So for tonight, I’ll sleep with the lights on.