You know you've made a wrong turn somewhere when you start identifying with Teresa Giudice. But I have and I do and seriously--can you believe she got 15 months? What happened? You know she is asking herself that question, just as I am asking myself the same thing, i.e. how did this happen? That I have MS (still hard to say/write those words), that I am scrapping and scraping to leave my family to go to Israel for 6 weeks to have my immune system completely destroyed. I mean, right Teresa? What the fuck happened to us? You in your orange jumpsuit, me with no hair...
We should totally be pen pals, Teresa and me. After all, she has to turn herself in to prison by January 5 and I check in for my stem cell transplant on January 4. This Christmas will be bittersweet tough for both of us, but once we have gone to our respective "aways," we can swap stories of strange new culinary dishes, trade tips on how to get our laundry done, and cry to each other with the misery of missing our children.
Because honestly. That is what I fear most. Not the pain or the chemo, the fatigue or the foreign country, but that my kids will think I have abandoned them. That they will feel scared and alone, not safe.
Just thinking about it makes me feel like an actual knife is stuck deep hot into my chest and I can't breathe.
So I try not to think about it too much. Instead I read Us Weekly, books, I drink almond milk and look deep into Teresa's eyes and sigh the sigh of a woman who doesn't know how she got here either.