The Big Day

One week ago I turned 49, it was a milestone that I was happy to make. So many ways I do not feel 49. When I care for my mom who is 80, I begin to feel my age. Matter of fact I feel even older. There is so much responsibility in her care, there are weeks like this week I look around and wonder if I am able to do it properly. I am sick with pneumonia, I spent this week in bed. My husband and kids still need me, my mom needs help too. But this week it was me that was number one. It is a spot I rarely feel, I felt guilty most of the time. I did come to realise I can not continue to help everyone at the level I have been. Something which is truly translated as someone has got to get cut down on time and effort level. Unfortunately it will be my mom. As hard as I know it will be, I have to stay well. Since surviving cancer my antibodies are not what they used to be. Any illness kicks my butt. I try to fight back, but I am just a lump of jelly on the floor. One week ago I did not think I would make it, I felt so bad.
Cancer did not kill me, it only made me stronger. I now have a more sassy sense of life, life is too short not to be happy. It is too short to pretend to have fun, life is for the living. These are all statements that are true to a cancer survivor, the only difference between us and the non survivors is we know them to be true, not just thoughts. I am grateful for the great writers out there that thought them up. I can only begin to appreciate my life each and every day.