The expectation
growing up was to always tell the truth.
So I have to come clean. I have
not always been very truthful, especially to my mother. My mom and/or my dad call me every day to ask
how I am feeling. This presents me with
a dilemma. I can’t stand to tell my
mother the truth. I know that telling
her how crappy and miserable I really feel wouldn’t do any good. I hate that cancer has to affect so many
other people in my life. It breaks my
mom’s heart to hear that I am not feeling well or that I’m feeling particularly
weak. I don’t necessarily lie to her,
but I haven’t always told her the truth either.
Honestly, the first 10-12 weeks of chemo were miserable. Those weeks were rough and awful. When my mom called me to ask how I was doing,
I couldn’t tell her the whole truth.
It’s too hard to hear her pain through the phone. Now those miserable, horrible, terrible days
of chemo are over (I think and pray and hope).
Thank God. My mother and I both
survived. She has spent years raising
me, loving me, and keeping me safe. The
least I could do was attempt to protect her from my agony. Because the one
thing that is worse than hearing you have cancer might be hearing that your
child has cancer. So mom, I only lied
for your own good. It was best that
way. I’m finally feeling better…honest!
Dear Mom and Dad, while
we are on the subject of lying, I have one more thing to tell you. When I was about 10 years old I stole some
money from the coin jar in your bedroom and went to Casey’s General Store to buy
75¢ worth of Laffy Taffy’s. Sorry about
that too.
Looking
on the Bright Side…looking back on those first weeks of cancer, I now realize
how strong I was. I didn’t know I had it
in me.
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