Being Strong Isn't Always The Answer

 It’s 4am and I’m awake dreading my scans today. It’s one last big one before I move on to getting my port and starting chemo. 

The MRI machine I dislike so much will beep and siren while showing the doctors every malfunction my body has or hopefully doesn’t have. 

I woke up yesterday and read my last MRI report and instantly felt dread. That last scan told them how in-depth this tumor was and the good news was not shared. 

I tried yesterday to stay busy and keep my mind off it. I did ok for about half the day. Inevitably though I had to walk home from the neighbors just to cry and break down, I couldn’t contain it anymore. 

I cried and cried, loading all my fears and worries onto my poor husband. He tried to reassure me that “what if’s” are not beneficial now, and that we cannot control this so we have no other option but to trust these doctors and do as they say. It’s just a process we have to go through to try to get better, nothing more. 

I’ve remained strong in front of the kids until now. I was talking to my mom on the phone from the bathroom, still breaking down, and when I came out my son was there, concern on his face, and asked what was wrong. I couldn’t even hold it together for his sake at that moment. I told him I was scared, scared of the machine, scared this thing has spread. From the mouths of wise babes… he said “mom, we’ll get through this together. If it spread they’ll still give you the medicine for it.” Which is true. Both my son and daughter hugged me tight and I apologized for them having to see me like this, as usual, I’m the strong one in the family. Again, my son who apparently is wiser beyond his years than I sometimes give him credit for, said, “well, if we didn’t know you were crying we wouldn’t know you needed us.”  

Not only did my son keep his cool for me but he gave me some wise words to pull myself together a bit. Even my children are here for support, love, advice. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more proud of my son. 

So, though I’m neglecting sleep from my worries, I’m looping over and over again my seven-year-olds words to try to remain optimistic. 

Here’s to another day, I pray today brings no more negative news for our family.