"Nine down, three to go."

My treatments are getting harder. My prayers are getting longer. My "good" time has transitioned from days to hours. My legs are covered in bruises. My skin in gray. My hair is gone. My weight is nearing "wedding day" numbers. My smile is underused, my laugh nearly non-existent. My spirit is being tested like never before.

Dear God,
Make me a bird ... so I can fly far. Far far away from here.
~K