Mom’s scans showed No Evidence of Disease.


I don’t even know what to call this post

My mom is at the onc now.  I am at work, since I have no leave.

I should be at lunch but I am just frozen to my desk waiting for her to call.

Her appointment was at noon.  It’s 12:30 now.

Please let her scan be OK.

Mental note:  In the future, eat before scanxiety starts.


I have gained 19 pounds.  I’ve started snoring.  I wake up in the middle of the night, every night, either because I have to pee or because I can’t breathe.

I feel sleepy all day, and then I can’t sleep at night.

There are weird snapping noises coming from my tummy.

How do women survive this?  I hear so little complaining.  I feel like I’m in a hamster ball or something; I’m trapped in this discomfort that has been going on for seven months and three weeks and won’t go away.

Love hurts

I will always remember after my mom’s cancer surgery when a semi-competent medical assistant tried to help her sit up and he dropped her and she fell back, stretching her fresh incisions.

She didn’t complain about the pain but she couldn’t help her tears, and she started crying.  I so rarely see her cry.  It was one of the worst moments of my life, watching her suffer without being able to share it in any way.

When my baby is born in that same hospital I will be in the bed too.  And I don’t mind that it will hurt–it feels like a way of sharing in my mom’s pain.

I hope I’m as brave as her and I don’t cry out; I just spill tears.