It’s 1:30am here.
And out of no where, it hit me that if this is what I am thinking it is, there’s a chance I won’t be around to see my kids start school. The prognosis for IBC is less than 35% after 10 years.
I know it’s ridiculous to worry and cry over something that hasn’t even been diagnosed. But that doesn’t stop my mind from going there. Because what if? What if this is bad? What if I am going to need chemo treatments? My husband works odd hours so him taking me to treatments is unlikely. My closest family is in their 70s and have health problems of their own. I have friends nearby but none of whom I would want to place the burden of that upon.
Then there’s my kids. My 4 year old and my 6 month old. Both of whom are very much attached to me. I can’t even go to the store without my 6 month old having a hard time. If I walk outside during her nap, she wakes up. Our bond is, insane. What will they do if mommy gets so sick from treatments that I can’t take care of them like I do?
So many what ifs are going through my head right now. The positivity I’ve been trying to keep is gone. I’m a sobbing mess. My house is quiet (which is rare). I can hear my baby breathing in the monitor in her room. My 4 year old is snoring quietly on the bottom bunk in her room. My oldest (step daughter) just barked in her sleep (she dreams she’s a dog often) and I can hear my husband’s c-pap machine in the other room. All noises I took for granted just last night.
I should be in bed myself. But I can’t sleep now. I’m praying that I will be writing a new post in a week laughing about how scared I was and how this was nothing at all. Even though my heart of hearts knows that won’t be the case.