Sunday, June 13, 2010

You don't really want to know...

I try to remain positive about things in life. People tell me how "strong" I am. I want to tell them that it's all a front. That if they could see inside me, they would see a puddle-y mess. That when they ask "how are you?" I sometimes want to spit back at them "You don't really want to know." Because, really, they don't. Do they REALLY want me to say "You want to know how I am doing? How I am REALLY doing? I am doing really crappy. My son died. Every day from his diagnosis on, I watched him go through chemo and get sick from it. I watched his skin burn from radiation. I watched him puff up from the steroids, and try to be so brave through testing that would make grown men flinch. I had some hope that maybe we would make it when his scan was clear in January, then got the wind knocked out of me in April when his scan showed that the cancer had returned with a vengeance. I knew that that meant that my child only had a little bit of time left with me on this earth. I watched him deteriorate on my couch, and had him die next to me. Do you know what that does to a person? To a mother? It kills a huge part of who she is. It dampens her spirit, and changes who she is forever. So, yes, you can ask me how I am for your own sake. And I will lie and say 'good' for your sake, too, because, honestly, you don't really want to know."

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