I really wish I didn’t have to write this.
I still have nightmares about this day. A part of me still feels like it’s unreal. As if everything that happened was just a bad dream and I’ll soon wake up and everything will be okay again. – Sadly, I know this is not the case.
Cancer. Easily the most hated word. Likely one of the most feared diagnoses. As I write this, I feel empty. Drained of energy and empty of emotion. I try to hide it. I try to go to the gym or spend time with family in order to make a small effort at being myself again. I try. But I know it won’t work. The day I watched that doctor explain the severity of Lung Cancer to my grandfather was the day 90% of the small hope I had left was laid to rest.
I wish I had something positive to say. A way to turn this terrible time into something good, but I just don’t.
Since that day people have found comfort in telling me stories of their loved ones who passed away from Cancer. – This has to be one of the worst things I’ve ever witnessed someone do. People, more than one. Trying to comfort a caregiver with stories of death, as if I don’t already realize how terrible this disease is. As if I would find comfort in a reminder of all of the pain it’s brought up to this point.
As bad as it hurts I’m trying to appreciate every day I have with one of my best friends.