Dream

Okay, then. It took me over a year (one year, one month, two weeks and 4 days, to be exact) after being diagnosed with cancer to have a dream about dying.

In my dream I found another weird lump. This wasn’t in my breast, it was on my stomach, weirdly. But it was there and I went to the doctor, who told me I needed to prepare my girls to live without me.

I woke up at that point, all frazzled and scared and it was creepy.

I do not currently have any lumps on my stomach or anywhere else that I’m aware of. I do searches quite often because, duh.

I go through surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, hair loss and regrowth without this kind of dream.

Does this mean that I might be on the cusp of accepting that I’m going to be okay?

I’m so afraid to even think that, let alone type it, because it feels like I’m daring whatever powers that be to prove me wrong.

I want so badly to be okay.

I want to be here with my girls as they continue to grow. I want to be here with Tom as we continue to grow. I want to take care of my family and friends and live and love.

I pray about this every single night.

I am no more special than any other woman who has a family, children, friends, a life. Why should I get to keep living and taking care of everyone I love when others haven’t had that luxury? Amy is not here to see the birth of her first grandchild, Baby A, this month or next. Other moms out there have lost their battle with cancer, leaving younger children than mine. Other mothers of special needs children have died, leaving their sweet babies confused and without the person who was their whole world, just the way my death would leave Olivia.

Why am I special enough to be allowed to beat cancer?

I’m not, but I want to anyway. And on the flip side, every day people beat cancer, they keep fighting, they keep living. Why can’t I be one of those people? I feel good these days, I feel lucky/blessed, whatever you want to call it. I am living and loving and fighting and even when the bad dreams come, I am grateful for every single day that I wake up.