Cancer Diary: Part 2, English translation from Japanese

2009 December 10

Preparation has been made.
Two weeks from now, my embodiment in an ordinary easy carelessly long life will end. On the shortest day of the year, I will go into the hospital for the first round of chemotherapy: December 21, the winter solstice.
I do not want pain or tears.
2009 December 11
There has been a status change.
Fame, fortune, marriage seem overshadowed by the announcement of the status change of impending death.
Only to my cat do I continue to appear completely healthy, I think; I am glad my cat continues to look at me as ever.

The certain knowledge deepens my eyes with a rare prediction, perceptible to others of my kind even if not expressed or cognitively apprehended. They may be like children　who look at adults and think, “They know something they are not telling me.”　　

I have a special kind of childhood’s end.

Eating a delicious meal, I feel that my mother is near.
When I was a child, I found the discarded filters from my mother’s cigarettes. Because I was a child, I did not care about the tobacco, instead imagining that the paper, unrolled to a miniature scroll, was for writing.

At university, I started 15 years of smoking tobacco.