Besides my positive mental attitude, which I've strived hard to attain, I am devastated and my heart's broken in two. I ward it off most of the time, it's not just the shots, new habits, and numeratic uncertainty...it's the plain unfairness that it happened to Taylor, not you.
I've broken a dish or two, I'll admit it. Nobody was hurt, my wrath quickly forgiven, but nothing about this seems fair, that thought's allowed. A teeny-tiny window of possibility, a research study that may bring a cure...6 weeks to three months post-diagnosis.
Anyone, anyone...God? You hearing my repetitive prayer?
Oh well, we'll get through, we always do. But just so you know, I've felt pain as a mother before, and with losses of good friends. There are worse situations for parents to deal with, I know, it's true.
But in those quieter moments when my thoughts catch up, the house is finally settled, my duties done. Teardrops do fall, just a brief moment of grief, for every lost drop of her blood.
7 years ago