I went to work after waking up from an almost sleepless night. I feel a bit numb. I spent the day doing the odd work task, researching cancer treatments, feeling sorry for my sister and feeling sorry for myself. I felt myself starting to wallow in the latter. I realize how odd that really is, that I would feel sorry for myself. I mean, I'm not the one having to go through all of this yet I am going through it. I feel selfish when I sense that self pity start creeping. Yet, aren't my feelings somehow true as well? It seems false to not let myself feel them yet incredibly childish that I am. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to scratch at the cancer and yell "Get the fuck out of her!" I want to rail at whatever made this happen and kick it and kill it and burn it and make it pay for even threatening my beloved sister. Yet I fear it. I fear that it will win and she will lose and I will lose her and then I want to erase that thought forever because for right now Terry is strong, she is healthy and, I know, this is the time we have to be strong and to fight and to laugh and to love and to live. I can't buckle under this pressure because this fight is not mine. It's hers. It's her struggle and feelings that have to take front and center and I have to put my feelings aside. She cannot see me aching. I won't let her.
In the last three days more people have approached after hearing about my sister's illness and told me they would keep her in they're prayers. I'm not a particularly religious person but somehow the idea that people who have never met Terry are using their personal faith to try to help comforts me. I thank you all, you know who you are. As all this plays out, I shall call on you more and more.
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