Torn Bandaids.

 World Donut Day, World Slurpee Day, World Taco Truck Day, World Coffee Day....and the list goes on and on. 

I began my blog post early yesterday morning.  Searching those folders labeled COH2017.  

Trails and trails of memories.  

Not all good.

This one right here you guys. 

I want to burn it. 

I want to delete it.

I want to shred it into a zillion pieces.

But I can't.

They Radiated my son for 4 days straight.  4 times a day.

They killed his insides.
The process for remission.
The process to close a chapter.

Torn Bandaids.

It KILLED me.

And yet. 

Here I stare at it.
His last words to a fellow patient last week, remember...?
"It wasn't that bad for me"

Gawd.

Sickening honor. 

Then we have this nurse, whom basically was overdosing my bird with Ativan, until I finally questioned his ability to sit up in the chair.

But you learn to speak up because something tells you that a dose in between those treatments of 3 hours is less than what a dose should require....

Am-I-right?

Is Mama the one to speak up and question?

You betcha farkin' dollar she did.

You just do.  

Delete these pictures?

Are they a part of who we are?

The long road we've been down...?

As a matter of fact, there are certain pictures I view that can take me back to the stench of the mask I wore.  I can drift back to the smell of the soap at Kaiser that made my dry hands drier.  I can hear the beep of an IV and instantly want to run. 

World Cancer Day.

Yesterday.

Honoring those fighting, and those we said our farewells to.  Those we'll continue to honor by sharing websites like this-

Be The Match

The Red Cross  (I can remember pacing out in front of Kaiser waiting for his platelets to arrive, he was so so weak and sick and it was his mom that would almost usher it up to the nurses station-something I want you all to remember if you're ever in the ring with someone fighting cancer.  YOU must be the wheel.  That squeaks, that turns, that gets shit done. NEVER doubt yourself, and ALWAYS question things that aren't clear.)  MY BIGGEST opinion forever and ever amen. 

Cancer. 

It's a word all of us have been affected by.  One way, or another.  We have.  Or...sadly, we will. 

I never imagined I'd be that mom that would stand bedside to my birdie praying quietly over him as he slept.  I never knew the amount of information I'd learn about the word.

World Cancer Day was yesterday.  And just like all the patterns of media that explode, there they were.  A gentle reminder from the fighters out there.  The ones still here with us.  Their given right to post a picture and title worth honoring.  The pain they felt. The pain they still feel.  The days of blur and yet those days of knocking those bad cells down one by one.  The strength in their voices now, because gosh-dammit they deserve the recognition. The fierce kick to the curb they feel about that journey. 

World Cancer Day. 

I am proud of you fighters.  To the new friends I met along the way.  Some I kindly mentored, while others I stoically stood back in awe.  The strength on a mothers face as she fights the battle today.  

I can tell you one thing.  

Cancer fighters are true hero's.  In my eyes.  TRUE. Hero's. 

I am proud of you Kris.  You continue to push through even on the darkest of days.  Even when I nag your ears off.

YOU do you.  

I love you.

To you fighters out there.... YOU ARE HERO'S!

Torn band-aids hurt.

For the record, I did shred the Radiation Certificate and tossed it in the trash months ago.
Came across it one day while purging some medical bills.

I'd rather hang up his old collection of lures.

Worth fighting for:

Take Action Now- Be The Match

This Mama Lisa