Mommy is asleep in her massage chair as usual. These two napping hours are the most peaceful of the night. She's been in extreme pain all day, coughing, wheezing, and aching in so many spots on her body that I can't even keep track anymore. This post-dinner nap serves as a tiny break before another agonizing bout. This is the window of time where I can be quiet and pretend that everything is normal. Or not. Tonight, I went on Runnersworld.com and read stories about cancer survivors who have won their battle and have gone on to run many more miles and achieve more personal records. I'd like to say that I found inspiration in these stories and gave thanks to God for giving those cancer patients new life, but this is not true. I am bitter because my mommy, love of my life, will never be fully cured. I am bitter because the cancer continues to take over more and more of her body. I am so bitter and heartbroken.
But I can't cry or scream like I want to, because I don't want to wake her. Once she's up, she'll have to endure the pain again, and my heart will hurt more.