The C Word

The C Word

Who else remembers that show? I can barely recall the plot line (sans the obvious) from somewhere deep in the recesses of my memory.

To write about the C word seems so cliché. It’s sadly not so uncommon that we haven’t been effected or had someone close to us, or maybe a “friend of a friend”. The point being we’ve all read personal accounts on the internet. I think there’s plenty to be said about such a diagnosis. Plenty to learn and empathize with. To read in empathy or with trepidation that you never have to bare the same burden. Blah blah blah. My point is: it’s all been said before.

Yet, I am still bemused to find myself typing this while my better half sleeps in a hospital bed 2 days post-surgery because THE C WORD dared to invade her body. What’s even crazier to me is that life keeps on at the same pace. There are still soccer practices, birthday gifts to buy, bills to pay, emails to answer…

Yesterday I had to write a 3-5 page paper on ethics in media. Because my summer courses don’t pause for my own personal sanity.

If you know Julie and I in real life, you know we always look for the lesson or the good in any situation. “What is this teaching me? What good will come from this?” I’d be lying if I said this felt like some obviously enlightening moment. It’s annoying. Like a zit on picture day or a flat tire when you’re late to the airport.

That’s not to belittle the significance or undermine anyone else’s diagnosis. It’s just the reality of our life at the moment. Julie has repeatedly said, “This is so dumb”. And it does in fact, feel very very dumb.

We are staying optimistic that this blip will be just that… a short detour on our path. But, not our destination. Whatever you believe in, we will take all the good juju, positive vibes, prayers and love you can send our way.

Feel free to also drop me your favorite family friendly (EASY) low fiber recipes. Because, again, life continues on in the mundane way of choosing what’s for dinner every night and whose laundry basket needs emptied… even with THE BIG C.

Xoxo,

Trina