I'm in this house alone. My husband told me that he wouldn't be angry with me if I didn't accompany him to the lake this weekend. I opted to stay home, and then he became angry. He became angrier when I cried after he lashed out at me.

He asked if I would feed the dogs and give the dog her insulin while he is gone. Of course, I will. He said that if I should decide to leave, to please let the neighbors know so that they could take care of the dogs.

I asked if he wanted me to leave. He said he didn't, but I think he really wishes I would. It would be so much easier for him. I'm not the same person he married, and that's unfair to him. I've been cut up, mutilated, burned, and poisoned. I've been pumped full of drugs. My brain isn't the same. I rarely talk or smile anymore.

I know I'm a mess. I don't know what happened. I thought after the cancer treatments ended, I would just bounce right back. Nobody told me that they would take part of my brain and psyche with each treatment. Nobody asked my permission, and I never would have given it.

I try to avoid crowds and loud noises. I try to keep things around me calm and quiet. I get confused when there's too much going on around me. I can't function without a notebook of lists. They stole me from me and left a shell. They killed me and kept my body alive.

I can't do my job anymore. I'm about to run out of money. I think he saw a big paycheck when he married me. The paycheck is gone, and it's just what's left of me that he is stuck with. I'm supposed to be glad to be alive, but I wonder if he wishes I could go ahead and die. Then, he could take my life insurance and buy a nice boat, name it, "Thanks, Babe!" and go on with his life. He would be happy with me again. He would be free to find someone else. Someone with a brain and two breasts. Instead, he is stuck with me.