Thursday, January 19, 2012


I wish I were asleep. It's 5:20 am.

I wish I could be asleep and dreaming of something really pleasant like being on vacation or something weird that I could talk with Chris about in the morning or something totally mundane like doing the laundry. Even if I had a dream I probably wouldn't remember it.

Instead, I'm awake and I'm worrying. No, that's not quite accurate. I'm terrified.

I'm terrified that when Bea's radiation is over that her cancer will come back in days. I'm terrified that we won't find a trial that's good enough or at all. I'm also worried that I'm going to crack up and not be mentally healthy enough to care for Bea or Lewis. I'm worried that I am not strong enough to handle this for my family. I'm terrified that Bea is going to see through my steady day facade and my fear will creep into her life.

I don't sleep when I worry. What happens when I don't sleep isn't pretty. I feel tired all day. My memory is gone. I am short tempered. I cry all the time. There are lengths of time throughout the day when all I do is worry.

This week has been a crying week. Nobody sees it. I cry in bed. I cry while I'm driving, as long as it's by myself. I'm crying now, while everybody is still asleep. I cry in the shower or while I brush my teeth.

I don't cry all the time though. I don't cry when I play Wii with Bea and Lewis. I don't cry when I play games with the kids. I don't cry when I'm brushing Bea's hair or helping her get ready for the day. I don't cry when I talk with Chris, most of the time. I don't cry when I'm watching TV or reading the cancer books I've bought. I don't cry when I'm making art or doing work to fundraise for Bea. I don't cry when I'm making the kids a meal. I don't cry when I feel like I'm doing something that's helping Bea.


  1. I am so sorry Helen. I know this is so painful...and I don't have any words of wisdom for you. I would be doing the same. Keeping you all in my thoughts.

  2. It's OK. This situation isn't something that would wish anybody to be wise about.

  3. I know there are no words to help take away your pain. Just wanted to let you know you are always in our thoughts and prayers.

  4. Cry, Helen, Cry- if that is what you need to do. You are dealing with something that no parent should ever have to. I know you want to be strong but allow yourself these moments. Sending positive thoughts and prayers your way.

  5. “There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love.” Washington Irving.
    You are all in my heart.


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