red shoes

I've been thinking about this post for a long time. How to write it so that it accurately portrays how I feel without making it sounds like I'm thankful for cancer. Because I'm not. I hate cancer. I hate that this may be my last birthday where my mom calls me and sings. I hate it a lot. But in some ways cancer has been a gift. That sounds so weird to say, to type. It's not a gift like something you want that someone you love gives you. But maybe a gift in the sense that it's changed some things for the better. At least in me or for me. Sure it's ripped out my guts and caused more pain that I've known and I would happily return it, no questions asked. But that's not an option here. We can't give cancer back. There are parts that I wouldn't return though. Mom and I have always talked on the phone a lot. Most of it just chatting or calling about an idea or something random. Conversations post cancer feel different. Even if we talk about nothin...

Yes. She does. Kids are intuitive. They are smart. They know more than we give them credit for. Once the dust settled and once we knew what Mom was facing, we had to make decisions about the kids. About how we would talk to them about Bubbles being sick. My immediate instinct was to shelter. Pretend like they didn't notice my red, swollen eyes and constant tears. 'Mommy are you sick?' 'I'm not sick I just don't feel well.' Keep them little. What they don't know can't hurt them. And that C word. DO NOT UTTER that C word. They know what cancer is. They understand it makes people sick and some people live and some don't. No one say Cancer. I talk a lot about how I'm not sure I'm grown up enough to handle what we are facing. I, of course, know I am. I know that I'm emotionally and physically equipped to handle almost anything, I just don't want to. Our kids, they aren't. And by sheltering them in my 'Mommyshieldingsuperpro...