After the great day we had with Sadie, I crashed because I had actually taken too much Klonopin in the morning so I was toast. The end of the school ceremony (not her graduation) was outside and the sun was beating down on us so after a light lunch, I slept for several hours.
Nathan and I were in bed. He watching a movie on his iPad and I reading a book, a real one, not a digital one. I still have a few left laying around. But I kept interrupting him with dumb questions like did he feed the dog or did Courtney know the new morning routine since she hadn't slept over in a long time and we had to leave early for my PET scan. Oh, right. The PET scan.
The PET scan. The six month follow-up to see if there was any active cancer in my body, not including brain. This was supposed to have happened in May but we all know what became a priority that month. Regardless, I began to breakdown. Tears, weeping, sobbing again. Why did it feel so foreign to cry?
My Puerto Rican side of the family cries for everything. We're expert criers. We cry when we're happy, sad, overwhelmed, in awe, in fear, overjoyed, mournful, feeling blessed....you get the idea. We be criers! But in this last year and a half, I've noticed that I don't really, truly cry. I do have bouts of tears welling up, especially when someone is showing us a special kindness but alone, in my private space, even with my therapist, I don't go there. If I do, I seem to "get it together" quickly and even apologize for it.
I wrote the above in early June. Obviously a lot has happened in the last 8 weeks but I thought I better post something because I was getting a lot of flack from everyone. I'll write a true update tomorrow.
Spoiler alert- we're all fine!