Good god, people. Thank you for your comments and emails. Internet hugs are real, yo,' and if I sound flippant it's only because I don't know how else to act and thank you is not enough.
Cancer is still a total dick and I am still walking around wondering how I could possibly still need to buy more cat food when this is happening, but that's a lot of stills and let's face it--nothing stays still even when you are pretty sure your world has stopped. I asked my mom's oncologist the question we all see in movies, i.e. how much time, and he gave a very wide range of somewhere between I don't know and cover my ass. His ass. This sucks ass is pretty much the only thing we all know for sure. Titshitcocksucker, caught in a limbo of please, fuck no. I just might be in the anger stage of grief.
At the same time I have this song stuck in my head, something that Zoey showed me online, and I am trying very hard to make it my mantra seeing as how it makes as much sense as anything these days.
It's Monday morning. My mom is dying. There, I said it. Now go ahead and watch the video and try it with me. Pink fluffy unicorns, dancing on rainbows, pink fluffy unicorns dancing on, dancing on rainbows...