no one saw this coming.
There's an ugly cry coming. I can feel it. It's crept up a few times and I've managed to fight it off, but it's coming. And it's going to be Ugly.
It has been two weeks since Mom's surgery. We didn't really talk much about the surgery beforehand. I don't think anyone wanted to address our fears head on or talk about the 'what ifs' so we just didn't really talk at all. The only reason that was okay was because we have done a lot of talking in the last 333 days.
333 days. That's how many it's been since our world stopped spinning; since cancer started to manipulate most of our thoughts and consume our emotions. Three hundred and thirty three days. For 333 days we have all woken up and our first thought was immediately 'Mom is dying.'. For 333 nights my Dad hasn't slept; lying awake paralyzed with fear of losing his best friend. For 333 days my Mom worked tirelessly to find doctors; the right doctors. She worked her fingers bare researching and learning and asking questions; so many questions. Most of the answers to the questions weren't what we were hoping. For 333 days she put herself through hell. Actual hell. She faced her own mortality. She did it with as much grace and strength as she could muster; some days that wasn't much.
Three hundred thirty three days ago my Mom was dying. Today, she is not.
The surgery was Mom's only option. It was the only shot she had at living a life again. She had to take the shot, she had to take the chance. Two weeks post-op and we know it was a chance worth taking. The surgeon (a brilliant woman who went in fighting and saved my Mom's life) reset her disease. She reset it to ZERO. There is no evidence of cancer in her body. Cancer free.
Cancer free. Those are words we NEVER thought we would speak. Never. We are in shock. It's a good shock; one that we are embracing. It's hard to go from 0 to 100 though. That's why the ugly cry is coming, but it hasn't arrived yet. It's hard to change your frame of mind. It's hard to get your head around something you NEVER thought would happen, happening. We all get a reset. We are so grateful.
Cancer free. What a blessing.
Disclaimer: The recovery from her surgery is long and gruesome. She's not up dancing yet and won't be for a while. She has to do a few rounds of chemo when she is strong enough, to kill any remaining cancer cells. She's not done yet. But the light at the end of the tunnel is much brighter than it's been since September 23rd.
It has been two weeks since Mom's surgery. We didn't really talk much about the surgery beforehand. I don't think anyone wanted to address our fears head on or talk about the 'what ifs' so we just didn't really talk at all. The only reason that was okay was because we have done a lot of talking in the last 333 days.
333 days. That's how many it's been since our world stopped spinning; since cancer started to manipulate most of our thoughts and consume our emotions. Three hundred and thirty three days. For 333 days we have all woken up and our first thought was immediately 'Mom is dying.'. For 333 nights my Dad hasn't slept; lying awake paralyzed with fear of losing his best friend. For 333 days my Mom worked tirelessly to find doctors; the right doctors. She worked her fingers bare researching and learning and asking questions; so many questions. Most of the answers to the questions weren't what we were hoping. For 333 days she put herself through hell. Actual hell. She faced her own mortality. She did it with as much grace and strength as she could muster; some days that wasn't much.
Three hundred thirty three days ago my Mom was dying. Today, she is not.
The surgery was Mom's only option. It was the only shot she had at living a life again. She had to take the shot, she had to take the chance. Two weeks post-op and we know it was a chance worth taking. The surgeon (a brilliant woman who went in fighting and saved my Mom's life) reset her disease. She reset it to ZERO. There is no evidence of cancer in her body. Cancer free.
Cancer free. Those are words we NEVER thought we would speak. Never. We are in shock. It's a good shock; one that we are embracing. It's hard to go from 0 to 100 though. That's why the ugly cry is coming, but it hasn't arrived yet. It's hard to change your frame of mind. It's hard to get your head around something you NEVER thought would happen, happening. We all get a reset. We are so grateful.
Cancer free. What a blessing.
Disclaimer: The recovery from her surgery is long and gruesome. She's not up dancing yet and won't be for a while. She has to do a few rounds of chemo when she is strong enough, to kill any remaining cancer cells. She's not done yet. But the light at the end of the tunnel is much brighter than it's been since September 23rd.
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