“Hey dad.”

“Hi honey. Mom’s in the shower. So…why don’t we just say I’ve just told you the news, huh?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Here’s mom.”

“So, mom. I’ve heard for your birthday you’ve got yourself some cancer, eh?”

“[laugh] Oh, jeez. Why does dad has to go and tell you like that!?”

So yeah. Mom’s in good spirit. Good enough to laugh at my jokes and make her own as you’ll read here.

I still fucking hate cancer.

Chemo starts next week. I’m under order not to worry. Because if I’m worried, then she’s worried. And that’s not good for her.

As for me coming home in February, she pretty much vetoed that idea. She doesn’t want me to see her sick. See her order in the first paragraph. She wants me to see her when she’s healthy again so we can actually spend quality time together.

I told her I could hold her hair while she pukes. But she said she probably won’t have any hair by then.

“Have dad save your plane ticket money for my chemo.”

But that’s the thing. I WANT TO SEE HER NO MATTER WHAT. That’s the time she needs her kids the most whether she wants us there or not. I told her I love her and she handed dad back the phone.

“So, dad. About February…”

“You just worry about getting your days off. And don’t listen to mom.”

I think we’re going to make this trip a covert one. So if you know me or my mother and reading this, keep it on the hush hush, okay?

She starts hiding things from me first. So now we’re doing it right back. Hah! 😀

Silver Girl Amy left me a note about her friend Erika who’s survived Stage III breast cancer. That was a moral boost I needed. So, thanks folks for your support. I’m hanging in there.

As long as my mom is upbeat, so am I.