I have started six posts since I last published anything. I have tried to finish them, but I can't seem to come to any conclusions.
The perfect example of my problems as of late.
feels very much like I am having an identity crisis. I am not quite
sure how to answer the simple greeting question "How are you?" This is
always asked with the kindest heart. But under the circumstances, it is
matched occasionally by my angry heart.
Much like a teenager, I am awkward to talk to right now. I find myself doing super lame things like...avoiding eye contact
sometimes. What? This only adds to the isolating feelings that are
inevitable with this kind of diagnosis. I have been told by some of my
closest friends that I am hard to read, or that I seemed shy or snobby
when they first met me. I can only imagine how I'm coming across now. I am so sorry! It's just that I don't know how I am. Truly. Or even exactly who I am.
Where I'm going. What's my purpose on the earth. I know the Sunday
School answers. I even believe them, I think it's just making that make
sense into my short-term world right now. I don't even know if I will
be around next year. What does that mean? Where does that put me?
Should I be happy? Should I be in despair? Should I be smiling, or
crying? I do both all the time, within the same minute. I guess I'm
just a mixed up mess most of the time.
I know what to do at the
hospital. I have direction. I am big-time focused on a big goal. I
can feel progress. I know how to be a patient. Those
weeks that are so hard physically are not too bad mentally. I want to
live. I want a cure. That is enough direction in the hospital.
We had the opportunity to tag along to Palm Springs this week with
Josh while he attended a conference. I was with my boys all day, all
night. We swam at the pool (actually it was the first time I didn't get
in), played tennis, croquet, mini golf, rode bikes, told jokes,
visited a few fun places with grandma and grandpa.
But we had to come home and face reality: Mom is going back to the hospital to start another cycle of IL-2.
my six year old was sobbing on my shoulder, "But why did you even get
cancer? Why do you even have to go to the hospital?" A scripture came
to my mind that I had read last week in the Temple:
If thou art called to pass through tribulation... and
if with a drawn sword thine enemies tear thee from the
bosom of thy wife, and of thine offspring, and thine elder son,
although but six years of age, shall cling to thy garments, and shall
say, My father, my father, why can’t you stay with us?...if the heavens
gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and
above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after
thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee
experience, and shall be for thy good. The Son of Man hath descended
below them all. Art thou greater than he? Doctrine and Covenents 122.
"But I want to be with you forever mommy!" "You will, baby. You know that. We talk about it in church all the time." "I know, but I want to be in the same spot as you. I want to always be in the same area. Do you know what I mean?" "Yes." Tears. "I just want to be touching you all the time."
I know exactly what he means.
is why tomorrow I check myself into the ICU and hope the gates of hell
to swallow me whole, and spit me out, but keep the cancer please!!!
Give me some experience, fine! But let me live!!!
No conclusions were reached here either I guess. See?