It's like I've been inducted into a club, but not actually as a full-fledged member, cause I don't actually want to be in the club. They have these pink ribbons and are proud and brave. And I'm over here like "No, I don't want to be in your stupid club. I don't want to wear the ribbon. I am not brave, and I am not a fighter, and part of me does not want to kick cancer's ass, it wants to hide in bed and cry."
The hospital sent paperwork in the mail yesterday for my appointment tomorrow. I'm irrationally mad about it. If I fill out the paperwork, I'm a cancer patient. I go from being just someone with some appointments, to a cancer patient. Cancer patients are bald and dying.
At least on TV.
That's all I know about this. What I've learned on Grey's Anatomy. And that's not really helping.
1 comments:
I so wish you weren’t in that club.
You know, I was just telling the story of Malcolm’s birth today, and I told the part where I was disoriented and scared, and you just marched out into that hospital hallway and made things happen. I said, “Good thing Mollie is so tough, because I was a mess.”
So, two things:
1. You’re a rock star.
2. If you need me to give a stern talking-to to some medical professionals at any point, I do owe you one.
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