“From the moment we strode in, to the moment we left, we were in tears. I don’t mean little, drippy tears. I mean big, fat, mascara stained tears. Some whispered as they watched. The ‘Indian Prince’ Doctor nervously smiled. The entire chemo ward waited to see what would happen next. We weren’t crying in pain. Oh no. We were laughing so hard we were crying. I remember being here with my husband after he was diagnosed. I was nervous how I’d feel. But you know – go big or go home.”
“My husband of 16 years. My best friend. The father to my 9 and 12-year-old beautiful boys. He left that morning for work. He never came home. I never saw his beautiful smile again. He just never came home.”
“I panic about my children when they’re just fine. I wake up unable to fall asleep because of my own thoughts. I replay conversations that were over weeks ago.”
“Looking at her reflection she is forced to blink to see clearly. Her gray hair is set in curlers. She is thinking about all the friends and family she has outlived. She considers bending down to fix her knee-high stocking, but instead, sighs deeply.
It is letting yourself be normal. Regular. Unexceptional. It is sometimes having a dirty kitchen and deciding your ultimate goal in life isn’t going to be having abs and keeping up with your fake friends.