TIMING

You're right. I stopped.  I crashed.  I hid. I froze.  I couldn't help it.

Two days after I found my way back to bloggy land, I got shitty news.  The kind of news that makes me want to crawl into a ball and cry.  It's not that the Mayans were right.  They weren't.

Two days after I found my way back here, I got a text from my sister saying that my mom's doctors found a spot on her diaphragm.  Later, I would find out that this spot has been there for a while and that the spot has grown.  Mom has stage 3c ovarian cancer.  M.D. Anderson puts a line through cancer and I like that.  It makes me feel powerful in a situation in which I have no power.  She has been fighting this ridiculous disease for almost 5 years.  She's a bad ass and she'll tell anyone who will listen that her reason for fighting was to see me graduate college.  She did.  She also watched me meet a man, fall in love and have a baby.  We aren't done with her yet and she's going to have to keep fighting.  She goes back to the hospital in February for further testing.  I guess the spot is in a tricky spot.  [Pun not intended]  I'm scared.  The day I got the big news of a spot, I burst into tears at work... twice.  I didn't have many details at that moment but I was scared.  Then, on the way home from work, I called my sister and we had a good cry on the phone.  Yes, a cry can be good and healing and a great release.  So now, we wait.  We wait for February (or early March) to see what happens.  To give the spot time to shrink because that asshole should shrink-- it has no right to grow.  Not now.  Not after everything she's been through.

In the meantime, we celebrate and we prepare.  Christmas is a beautiful time of year.  A time for love and family and generosity.  Maybe Santa will be super generous and make the spot disappear.  It's time for a Christmas miracle around here.