I sobbed yesterday all over Midtown. Big, fat tears fell over anything in my path. Blood red eyes, tear streaked face, runny nose. A mess in every sense of the word. Funny thing is, I don't feel sick. When I was first diagnosed, I knew something was wrong. Now, I feel great and this makes me nervous. Soon, will I not be able to breathe without assistance? I don't want to go down like that. But, do I have a choice? I told Joe yesterday that we need to see our lawyer. I need to set up a living will. By no means do I want to be on a respirator or revived. When it ends, let it end. I'm 37. I don't want to think about these things but I know I have to so no one else is forced to make that decision.
Sean kept calling yesterday to see how the test went. For the first time ever, I lied to him. I said we hadn't spoken to the doctor yet. I couldn't bear to tell him over the phone. I couldn't bear to tell him at all actually. Jesus fucking Christ he is only 17. Every fiber of my being was aching for him. My baby, my boy. This will stay with him for the rest of his life. Sean. I'm sorry I couldn't make this go away. Please know how hard I tried.
So now I return to the world of the unknown; except I kind of know. I know this is a battle I may not win but I will give it all I have. Thanks to everyone for their support and their love. It is everything to me.
Let go of anger. Hold your children tighter. Tell them you love them every day of their lives. Dance your ass off. Appreciate the beauty of the world around you. Connect. Connect. Connect.