I've been thinking about dreadful things. Death, the inablility to live without a mother in my life. I've been trying to be so optimistic, but the bad thoughts keep creeping in. My mother made a comment the day she found out that she didn't expect to live past 70. 70??? I need her so much longer than that. She is my mother. My friend. My confidant. My keeper. My muse. I would not be the person I am without her.
I've been trying to convince myself that the biopsy will come back and say it's benign. A tumor of the best kind. Remove it all. Her ovaries, her omentum, her uterus, her cervix. Whatever she doesn't need, get it out of there.
I'm scared for her about the chemo because I know she remembers the heartache with her own mom. It's all encompassing, the fear.
This waiting...it's a slow killer.