Hiccup

We've had a good run lately here at Casa De Nielson.

Emotions have been stable and days have been without
lots of tears and sadness.

Time has been spent enjoying days, and moments, and life.

It's been a while since I had a good cry.

Like a "whole body, snot dripping, needing to vomit, 
getting a migraine" from it kinda cry.

This morning I had one.  Lots of tears, a good amount 
of snot, but no vomit, and the headache is coming.

Kyle and I for some (insane) reason like to follow fellow
bloggers, and Caring Bridge pages of people that have 
his same kind of cancer.

It's good for information, and connecting to people
who are in the same boat--especially when "your boat"
is kind of empty with not many rowers.

This has it's highs and lows.

We've made some great new friends via the world wide web 
who REALLY REALLY REALLY "get it" because they're going
THROUGH it.  That part is good.  We're thrilled with our
connections to these people.

This is a high!

We're excited when CC (cholangiocarcinoma abbreviation)
patients are doing WELL.

We are happy and rejoice with them.

We feel so sad and heavy when they are doing NOT so well.

When they get sick and sicker and well, die.

This is a low.

This weekend another young father, Kyle's age with 2
small children, lost his 1 1/2 long battle with this
mother effing cancer!  (And I'm sorry to offend, but
this cancer is nothing but a MOTHER EFFING cancer!)

We never met, or knew them in real life, and yet
my heart BREAKS into a million tiny pieces for them.

Fear claws at my heart again.

I find it hard to breath.

Kyle read the blog and told me.  Sunday I kept it all
in and then today the dam burst.

It's one more hiccup in the journey, one more reminder.

I hate reminders.

This is the kind of cancer that doesn't have many victories.

Even with Stage 1, 2 or 3 victories are few and far between.

To live a number years with Stage 4?

That's a "miracle"...MOST folks get 6 to 18 months.

Remember our original diagnosis?

6-18 months.  and 18 months....

That's what this guy got.

(I know I know I know--no one knows what Kyle will get
and we're NOT giving up--we are just sad today.  Sad
doesn't mean "giving up", it just means sad.  Simply sad.)

HOWEVER, it is QUITE the reality check when we 
see someone die.

Again.

From this cancer.

Today I wanted to tell Kyle to come home from work and 
JUST BE with us and never leave again.  Ever. Ever.
(This is when being a millionaire would come in handy)

Today I wept for another mans wife and two children that
have been left behind in the wake of this disease.

Today I hate cancer, this one in particular.

Today I cried.

Tomorrow will be better, but today I let myself feel the
pain and anguish.  I let it roll through me, and over me,
and out of me, in the form of many tears.

Please say a prayer (or send up a good wish or thought) 
for Janalee and her 2 boys.

Pray that they will have strength and courage to make 
it through all that lies ahead.

Part of our human experience is being happy with those
who are happy.  

Finding joy.

And part of that experience is grieving with those who
grieve.  

Feeling empathy and pain with those who are aching.
Really feeling.

So today, we grieve for a stranger who is connected
to us through this cancer.  Our hearts are a little bit
sadder and our smiles a little less bright.

That's what I've got for today.

 Contemplating life and Jackson Pollock in New York City