Tag Archives: #NEGU



Off she went today. Part two of a four part high school program that every teenager must go through. I’ve always been a sentimental mom internally. I hide it well, but it’s there. However, since my world fell apart on June 2nd, it’s escalated to full blown anxiety mode. When they leave now I worry tremendously, and I sleep less. What was a mom’s worry, has turned into something more, almost a phobia. I’ve sat back and thought, a second disaster would be the perfect storm right now. It would top the cake of this insane situation, which no one deserves. One kid with terminal cancer, one kid gets hit by a car or worse, one husband disappears… or worse! Yes, harsh, but that’s how I’m left to think after everything. So my mind moves like this, consistently, every day, every minute. I’m not the same friend, daughter, wife, mom that I used to be. I’ve changed, and it’s only going to get worse. My brain is a never ending swirl of insane fears and conjured up emotions of which I have no idea where they’ve evolved from, or do I? We all have fears, as parents, and spouses, and children. However, I feel them more absolutely now than I ever had previously. At any moment I know that anything, even those things I feel we all deserve wholeheartedly, can be ripped from my hands and no one, no matter how hard they try, no matter how much knowledge they have in this area, can give that back to me. I know this now… It makes me freeze in place sometimes. I stop, and think, and shake my head and move on. As if shaking my head will make it go away. We think we know sorrow, or suffering, but when your child gets that diagnosis, you really “know” it. I’ve been through a lot in life, those close to me know this, but I’ve never had this. In my mind right now it’s all about what’s next, when is the next disaster. PTSD, possibly… I’m pretty sure it’s there… deep down. I vaguely remember the week before Katie’s diagnosis. I scarcely remember June. Snippets, all revolving around poor Katie, doctors, heads and hands, lots of tears, needles, gifts, and hugs. I don’t think it’s actually hit me yet, sadly. Here my child is diagnosed with the worst brain cancer she could possibly get, everyone is on overdrive and I can’t think, or remember anything. I just sit here, trying my best to be polite, give timely responses, give thanks, be there for everyone and remember anything and any of it… And I write, I write to remember, and I someday hope to stop preparing for the next disaster. – mom