Tuesday, September 16, 2014


there are times when i will see a link to an article and i know right away that reading it will not do anything to help my mental state. i can tell just by the the title of the article that it is going to send me into a cancer tailspin.

tonight on a facebook thread i saw the heading of an article called "making the decision to live, writer faces terminal cancer with ferocity and honesty."

truth is i would normally not open that article up due to the tailspin factor, but for some reason the words "making the decision to live" struck me, and this time i wanted to read more.

i think that it struck me because i am starting to be less than two months from my scans, and my anxiety is starting to run high. the fears are really starting to creep in, my emotions are all over the place, i am begging time to slow down, i am wondering how the last 4.5 months went so quick, and i am starting my routine of becoming a fuctioning wreck.

but i think that i felt like there might be words in the article to remind me as well that i need to start getting myself ready to pick up my boxing gloves and kick some scan ass. so whatever the reason, i clicked the link and knew immediately that a) i was going to need a lot of kleenex, b) i was going to read every word of the article, and c) i was going to need more kleenex than originally anticipated.

when reading her words about being a mom facing cancer i could feel my heart breaking in a million pieces, and the clanking sound as the pieces start to move around while the tears started to fall (as they do now writing this post). for her. for me. for all of the moms out there that have to face cancer, that have to even think about leaving their kids and their families, about what life would be like without them. i so wish that there was not a reason that any mom would have to think about that. that cures had already been found. that hearts no longer had to be broken.

but that is not the case. so on this day, i chose to read her words and i chose to write this post.

because cancer is always, always there. at some point in the day, it always creeps in, even if only for a moment. the "will i be here next year to take this annual vacation again?" the "i am so glad that i got to go to her first concert with her." the "i am so thankful to be able to walk in the door on the first day of kindergarten, i hope that i am here to walk into the door on the first day of first grade." the "it is time to put the summer pool away from the year, i wonder what our lives will look like next summer". the "all of the fall traditions are starting to come up, i need to get ready for a lot of emotions around those." the "i am scared shitless for what they are going to tell me at the start of november". the "i feel so guilty we didn't catch that mole sooner so we didn't have to go through this." the "i am so paralyzed with emotions around cancer that sometimes i just want to stay in a little ball all day long". the "she lost her second tooth, i want to see all of the milestones in her life." every single day, some aspect, some question, comes in.

i never live a day without cancer.

not one single day.

tamara cignac is a cancer fighter. she is a mom. this is her story.

i think that she is so very brave for sharing it, and my love and prayers go out to her and her loved ones.

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