Well, I didn’t do a very good job of keeping up with this, did I?
I was going to figure out how to come up with a cool background and format. I was going to write all the time. Oh well.
It’s March, and we are closing in on the end of treatment. Yes, I have mixed emotions. I see the toll that this has taken on my child, and it makes me so sad. I know that there are so many scars. The physical scars from surgery. The dozens of stretch marks that cover her body – thanks to the prednisone she takes. And all the really big scars. All the deep, deep scars that she carries with her, all the pain she has endured, all the days that she feels like a freak, all the stares, all the cold shoulders, all the pain, all the isolation. How will those scars be visible to those around her? How will she heal?
Today I’m not afraid for the future. Or maybe it’s so huge that it’s buried deep. Back to the cheesy songs – Que sera, sera. I can’t change what will happen, and I can’t live in the dark place where fear lives with what ifs. Yeah, relapse is a very real possibility. But so is continued remission.
I’m tired. Still tired. But the sun is shining today, at least.
