Today.

You have a long day at work, constantly thinking and wondering and anxious. You're a little on edge, and that damn new copy machine [read: office hand-me-down] is just being a piece of shit. The public is crankier than usual, you find yourself biting back comments, cutting off retorts before they drip from your lips.

You look over your shoulder at the clock even though you fully realize that it can't be more than 5 minutes that have passed.

Your stomach sinks a little when it's 3:00--the time you know she's in the appointment. You take your break and do some breathing and calm yourself down.

You text your sister, asking if she thinks there will be a text. [Dad's great at sending cryptic text messages for any such event.] She says she hopes, that she even requested a phone call. It crosses your mind that you should text yourself. Or call. But you're scared.

3:30. 4:00. 4:30. 5:00.

And now you know.

Those 3 hours pass excruciatingly slow. You punch out, get in the car and drive home. Your dad opens the door before you even have a chance to put the key in the lock. This has never happened before. Ever. He tells you everyone is outside and we all need to talk.

You go to wash up, and your sister is in tears in the bathroom. You don't say anything, because what is there to say? You don't ask anything, because you shouldn't hear it from her. And she might exaggerate. She might not have it all straight. You accept that the breast cancer came back and now we have to kick it's ass again.

You go outside to a sea of sad faces--another sister who just finished crying, a cousin who stares blankly ahead, her boyfriend looking slightly uncomfortable but supportive. You walk over to your mom and give her a hug. She kisses your cheek and tells you.

You fully expect to hear: "The breast cancer came back."

Instead you get, "They found a spot on my liver."

You don't really register lots of stuff after that. You sort of hear that it is very important to start the chemo as soon as possible. Monday morning in fact. 3 weeks on, 1 week off. They don't know how long, because they don't know how bad it is yet or how it will respond to treatment.

Your mind flashes back to see her there; pale and skinny, wisps of hair clinging to her white head. You remember when it all fell out, in clumps, and when you had to shave her head. You see the discomfort and weakness that the treatment causes. You despair.

You numbly eat a hot dog because, once again [or as always], work has made you late for family dinner. It doesn't really taste like anything. You try and crack some jokes, and wonder why there isn't a lump in your throat.

Before she leaves for a visit to the monastery, you get a couple minutes alone with her. The doctor specifically made her appointment his last, so he could spend as much time with her as she needed. He walked in and told her: "This is serious." No family reunion trips to SC. "We have to start as soon as possible."

She is strong as ever. Obviously upset, sort of in that "here we go again" mode. But she isn't crying. She doesn't tear up. She is strong. So you decide you are just going to be strong again too.

Today you are reminded, and you are forced to remember. Today was what you feared, and a little bit worse. Your faith is shaken, your fragile smile falters. You try and harden yourself for what comes next. For the next tomorrow.

But today. Today...

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow my mom finds out if the cancer came back. Or if it spread somewhere else.

But I guess I should backpedal a little bit. A couple weeks ago, she had a check-up and they found that her tumor count (tumor markers?) was too high. While this in and of itself does not mean anything horrible, it isn't a terribly good sign. In fact, it could all be messed up because she recently got over a non-pig related flu. However, it was strongly recommended that she follow up with a PET scan and a bone scan and all that. One was last Friday, the other this past Monday.

[Let me segue for just a moment about insurance companies. They fucking suck. The vindictive part of me hopes that those incompetent assholes get screwed when they need something important. The "I'm trying to be a better person" part of me pities them for being so useless, because that's all that part is capable of doing at the moment.]

Now, I haven't talked about this to anyone. I have found it's been on the tip of my tongue and I just haven't been able to vocalize the words. I think part of the situation has been the uncertainty of it all. Why say anything if it's all going to turn out okay?

But I dunno. I'm sort of scared. That Thanksgiving when she found the lump, I knew it was cancer. You know when you get that feeling--when you are just certain of something? In the olden days, when you just knew you bombed that test [>ahem< style="font-style: italic;">knew you'd wind something [rock on $25 Ski Barn gift card]. Sometimes you just know, and it's going to be good. Sometimes you just know and it's going to be bad.

I have been doing pretty good trying to avoid thinking about it. Yet, every so often I get this sinking feeling, and all that heartache and worry flashes back. And then sometimes I get that almost embarrassed feeling for even thinking it, because I know it will be okay.

And I just totally wrote about how I am sort of getting bummed out [I'm going to refrain from using the "D" word]. Concern and questioning over family and friendships and love. It really went on and on. But don't worry, I deleted it.

Here's to tomorrow.

Pitch black

On my conference journey today, I had the distinct pleasure of driving into the pitch blackness that was a ghetto-ass thunderstorm of the highest order.

Messed up. It literally looked like it could have been midnight, not 7:30 a.m.

Being the quick-witted individual I am, I thought "Hey! It's just dark, at least it's not raining." Ever the optimist!

Then it poured for the next 2 hours and I couldn't see anything. Awesome.

Although the occasional bolt of lightning streaking across the sky was enough to remind me that there was something beyond the raindrops, cars and clouds. If I hadn't been driving, it would have been sweet.

[The conference was cool.]

SQUIRREL!

You should go see Up.

Wrap up meeting #1

So tonight was our Team Captain Wrap-up Meeting. We had the usual crew present (it's STILL frustrating to have 8 or 9 team captains show up when you actually have over 20 teams, but it's okay) and we were informed that we have currently raised over $51,800.00!! So awesome. We only need $3,200.00!! That's nothing--we're so close!!

I made a bulletin board at work to advertise the fact that my team had kicked so much butt. I had done this more to sort of toss it in the board's face, since they are notoriously against us and all that we do. I wanted to show them that we had come together and wiped up without ANY help from them. They probably didn't give a shit, and that's fine too. But I wanted my coworkers to know and be proud.

Then on Saturday, a patron actually came up to me and thanked me. Just a "Thank you so much for doing this." To know that someone who was not directly involved went out of their way to thank me. It was just... Wow. Hah.

I was even quoted in the paper (which is weird to see), and at a family party on Sunday there were some people who commended me for the speech I made day of that they kept hearing about. I felt sort of guilty, because it wasn't all improvised. But what was interesting was how they had heard about it from friends or friends of friends, since they hadn't actually been there.

And tonight, I was presented with the coveted "Platinum Team" lawn sign. Haha.

I guess I am a little proud after all.

Now how to top that?