I’m pissed off and angry at everyone and everything. And not in a why is this happening to me kind of way. Just in a the numbness is going away and all I feel is pain kind of way. I know people try to help and be nice. But I hate their positivity. And no one knows what to say but the positivity makes me feel like they’re not taking this seriously. She has cancer. She has a million stupid tumors and we have to hope and pray that chemo works and some wizard doctor is able to scrape off every bit of cancer. And if not every bit, enough that it prolongs her life. Because if not its just going to come back. So ya I fucking hate everyone and their sunshine and rainbows. I have zero sunshine and zero rainbows. And maybe I’m just really jealous that they still have optimism.

Today is the day she meets with the gynecological oncologist.  And we are all scared.  We have no idea what he is going to say.  We are all numb and scared.  I haven’t even cried today.  I don’t have the energy for it.

They took her back into the office at 1:19pm.  They sent my brother here to “keep me company”.  I can’t stop looking at the clock.

About an hour and a half later they finally told us the news.  It is so much easier to just copy and paste a generic text to send to people.

My sister copied and pasted the text but left in the whole this is what I’m sending to people portion.  So that gave us a good laugh. The part I left out was that if they get to do the surgery they will remove her intestines to scrape off the tumors and then put her intestines back into her body.  Which sounds absolutely insane.  I don’t even know how I feel.  The whole things feels incredibly strange.  Oh and they believe she is stage 3C.

When I was 12 my mom took my sister and I to see Step Mom starring Susan Sarandon and Julia Roberts. The one about the mom that dies from cancer. That night I came downstairs and laid on my mom’s lap and cried my eyes out at the thought of her ever dying.

Two years later on a Monday night at the end of November we got the dreaded phone call. It was strange for someone to call our house at 8pm. That night we found out my mom had breast cancer. Throughout the next few months we learned they caught it early and although it was aggressive she would be able to have a bilateral mastectomy and not go through chemo or radiation.

Now here we are 15 years, 6 months, and 24 days from the day of that call. She has ovarian cancer and it’s bad. Unlike the pea sized tumor that took her breasts this one is out of control and has spread. And it feels like the life has been sucked out of me.