After many tests, consultations and lots of consideration from both my team of physicians and family, we’ve decided to hit this pan can hard with a round of aggressive chemo. Originally, we were all optimistic that it the cancer was very slow moving, but now know that’s not necessarily the case. I’m obviously nervous about chemo, but still optimistic. I have A LOT going for me. I’m young and besides this damn pan can, I’m very healthy.
It was so easy to tell my friends and family, “Look at how good I look and feel. I’ve got this!” Beyond friends, it was easiest to deliver that message to my son. My sweet baby shouldn’t have to deal with nonsense like chemotherapy. He should only be worrying about which bat he is going to use at baseball practice, not his Momma.
But when I start worrying about him, I remember that he and I are cut from the same cloth. We are strong beyond our own expectations. What my son has had to endure in his seven short years is more than most people face in a lifetime. But again, he’s not just anyone. He’s my tough, strong, perfect baby boy.
On a much lighter note, for the first time in my life I’m glad to have a little extra junk in my trunk. It should help me avoid getting too thin from the chemo.