1/22/13... what I know today
So, the blog address is out in the public. Sometimes I write for the rest of the world, and sometimes it's just for me and the rest of you are along for the ride. Hang on, cause it's gonna get bumpy. But if you're here, you've figured that out already.
I know that insomnia sucks. Benadryl at 2 am is equally awful, at least at 7 am. How bout some Tylenol PM about 5 minutes after dinner?
I know I love to fall asleep listening to Tom read The Hobbit to the boys at bedtime. One of the few perks of a tired mom with the same bedtime as my boys and a small house.
I know that I have made it through exactly 1 phone call not in tears today. That is one more than yesterday. And it was my mom, who swallowed her lumpy throat more than once. Progress.
I know that I really like purple more than pink. I don't own a thing pink! Maybe I will learn to wear it graciously. Maybe not.
I know my support system is bigger than cancer. I just wish I wasn't taking all of the rest of you down this path with me. It sucks, and I hate the collateral damage.
I know 5th grade moms are awesome, and 1st grade moms are growing on me. Hey, we've had 4 less years to bond, gimme a break. I am sorry to be the one who introduces your boys to cancer and heads shaved in solidarity. Once again, the collateral damage.
I know that lunch kidnappings are a good thing, and should happen regularly. Last week I was fully independent, worked closer to full-time than part-time, and managed my own life. This week, the biggest broken part is my head. Next week is too far away to predict, but I am afraid of the isolation and already miss the lunch table gossip. And perhaps the paycheck, too.
I know my kids are well taken care of, even if school won't let me put on their registration form "Who can we release your child to?" "Anyone who has my cell # programmed into their phone."
I know I am not going to Google the information on the pathology reports, at least not yet.
I know tomorrow I will wear my contacts, and feel better, and cry less, cause normal matters.
I know we go to see the surgeon on Thursday, and map out a plan to move forward rather than run in place. Feel like a gerbil going nowhere.
I know that this is God's plan, cause it certainly isn't mine! And He will walk it with me, and Jesus already walked it for me.