Inside this cranium...

I seem to get emotional a few days after any treatment,


I think its the "downer" part of the drugs.


It is NOT fun.


You can't imagine how much my mind WORKS.


Constantly.


I've been thinking a lot about my mom lately.


I miss her.


Then I think in a way, I'm so glad she's not here to see me go through this.


If you knew her, you knew it would have broken her.


But what a supporter she would have been. She was tough.


I try to be tough, but I fail miserably. I don't measure up to her. NOT AT ALL.

How amazing that when she was 43 -- she was anticipating my life.


Me at 43 ... perhaps facing my death.


It is a sobering thought. Its a lot of sobering thoughts.


My hub doesn't always read my blog. My kids don't know it exists.


I don't want them to know. I don't want them to read my struggles.


My hub says, I don't need to read it, you tell me.


I don't tell him everything.


I wonder if that is considered lying?


If it is, I lie a lot.


Every time someone asks me how I am, I say "Doing good!"


That is such a BIG.FAT.LIE.


Lord, forgive me.


Shielding people is what I do best. I try to make it better for them.


I really need/want someone to make it better for me some days.


But there are millions of people who have it worse than I do.


I would rather face this, then watch one of my children or husband have to face it.


That is the God's honest TRUTH.


Sometimes I want to scream and cry at God and ask Him,


WHY?


Sometimes not just why, but what did I do to deserve this?


But then I think WHY NOT ME?


I am no hero or martyr, I just know it to be true.


Outside the building today men were smoking and talking to Beckie.


Joking about how they knew what was going to kill them.


And at least they were paying their way there. Quite expensively, I might add.


There I stood in all my chemo looking glory.


How foolish. How utterly completely foolish.


People DO NOT THINK.


I want to be able to think before I open my mouth.


I want to learn that through this trial.


I want to REALLY help someone with cancer. Someone with a need.


Because I really know the One who can make everything well again.


I don't want to even hesitate to go up to someone who has cancer and begin to talk to them.


Because you can TELL who they are.


We look alike. Its true.


I look for them whenever I am out, and when I feel someone looking at me.


I don't care for that feeling at all,



I do not like to be stared at.


No, I HATE TO BE STARED AT.

I'm not a freak show. OK, I may look like one, but I'm really not one.

There's a heart and soul under the baldness and chemo face look.

The wedding photos should be JUST GLORIOUS.

Josh will need to photo shop some hair on me or something.

I'm thinking ahead of my surgery and figuring out how to make sure

that the nurses put something on my head after the surgery is over.

I don't do bald well. I hope they are compassionate.

Actually I am not 100% bald -- there is still hair up there. Not much, but some.

I still grieve the loss of my hair, the loss of my glory.

I really want my hair back RIGHT NOW.

The mirror and I are NOT FRIENDS.

Cancer and I are NOT FRIENDS.

I don't want to be defined by my cancer.

I spend a lot of time alone, alot of time awake in the night, always thinking.

Its nice not to think about cancer for 5 minutes straight ... its a relief.

But the truth is that I have (HAD?) cancer.

And I wish I never did.