This morning I awoke much the same as every morning……with that rude ass alarm clock buzzing in our fucking ears followed by a warm twitchy & squirmy five year old stumbling in with blankie in one hand and snoopy in the other to get his morning snuggles.
Since learning of my cancer 11 days ago, I have noticed a phenomenon in which I must wipe dried tears from my eyes, fucking cancer tears while I sleep, what a bastard. I clean my eyes, put glasses on then going down stairs to mix my my double chocolate protein and blend into my coffee. Those damn tears of worry.
Again -Logical me knows I’m in good hands. Surgery will be a breeze. Blah blah-Emotional me is scared as fuck and a nervous fucking spazz.
Wipe those dried tears Tara. Did I disturb/wake my husband during my fitful sleep–he needs his sleep too….I sit up stretch, kiss my husband goodbye….sob and sob and sob….uncontrollably big stupid cancer sobs. I know, I know it’s all normal and natural responses to an abnormal situation.
But fuck man, you’d think after 11 days of knowing this fucking beast that goes by the name of cancer is rapidly growing within me, I’d just be able to get up and go about life… not….that’s so not the case.
And while I’m not debilitated by depression, it has taken a huge chunk of my normal happy-go-fuck-yourself charm.
This is not the journey I thought I’d be taking when I turned 42 last 55 days ago.
This is not the journey I thought I’d be taking when I discovered my lump 24 days ago.
This is not the journey I thought I’d be taking when I had a diagnostic mammogram 15 days ago.
This is not the journey I thought I’d be taking when I heard my cancer diagnosis 11 days ago.
This is now the journey I must take. This is the road I must fucking walk, though not alone, never alone, for the next 18 days until my double mastectomy.
I will be walking this fucking cancer ridden road for 18 days. 18 more days kids! Then there will be a new set of worries such as treatment yadafuckinyada…..
peace, love & root beer floats