Tuesday, September 9, 2008

If your name is Caroline and you're my older sister, you're not allowed to read this. Seriously.

My momma's going in for surgery next week Wednesday. They are worried it's cancer. She, of course, is not worried at all about the cancer and only about feeling nauseated from the drugs. She hates being nauseated more than anything. Even more than cancer, apparently.
I'm not going to think about the what ifs. I've thought about the cancer approximately three times and have immediately turned into a weeping, slobbering mess. Not going to think about it.

I've been swearing, and crying without reason, and snapping at everything lately. I think it's possible a renegade part of my brain is thinking about the cancer without telling me: I'm feeling really breakable.
It's silly.
Everything's going to be just fine.