13. It was like someone punched me in the chest, and then in the face. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't process the words I was hearing. It was like a bad lifetime movie. It was unreal. The only thing that was real was my very real need to vomit. Cancer. He has cancer. This terrible disease that plagues those other poor families that I buy bracelets for and do fundraising for without much else thought except 'Oh, those poor families.' And now those families are my family. We're the poor family. There's words that I hate. 'Survival' and 'Appointments' and 'Oncologists' and 'Med Chart' and people saying things like 'good days'. I don't want 'good' days and 'bad' days. I want normal days. I don't want to lose a battle I'm not even allowed to fight.

stop, stop, STOP!