It is.
From daily life to scheduling doctor's appointments for the best specialists for not one but two very distinct diseases. I want to be Negan-like ruthless in my pursuit of scans and second opinions and doctors that can help Jason and now help me.
But I find myself more like Rick.
I am tired.
I have a second opinion weeks away with one of the best. I worry what the cancer is doing inside me until that time. Worrying is praying for something you don't want. So I convince myself that I am not worried. I am just overly conscious. Conscious that a foreign item I have no control over has Insidously housed itself inside me. I have to be patient in finding the exact way to take control of it.
Cancer doesn't hurt. That's a fucking lie. Pain is what started my investigation that found it.
I have check-ups for babies and my self and the husband and all these extra scans that will make me glow in the dark eventually. I am hyper sensitive on both ends of the spectrum because I can't move on the grief scale from anger.
I am grateful to God for the revelation of what I carry. I am grateful for the help and everything I received to help Jason make it this far in recovery and I pray so hard for more, to finally get him carried over the threshold to conquering this crazy ass disease he has.
Even with all my gratitude for every blessing - I am so angry.
I just don't know who I am mad at.
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