Bathtub

WRITTEN ON MONDAY, SEPT. 15

Today I took a long bath. I guess things just needed to soak in.

Some things have already sunk in. Like what if I don't make it. I've already thought about that a million times, and I've decided I don't want to take that route. But other things haven't really sunk in. Like, okay I really have cancer, and it's called nodular sclerosis Hodgkin's lymphoma. Try wrapping your head around that. Over the weekend I guess I was hoping that there was going to be a mistake, and that I didn't actually have cancer, but that I just had a virus or something. But that slim chance is gone. The doctor called at 8:53 am Monday morning with the results.

Anyway, as I soaked in the bathtub today I wondered if I would be able to have kids someday. I asked God, but he didn't tell me. Because from what I've read, sometimes after chemo or radiation therapy you can't have kids.

It's funny. I never thought something like this would happen. Things that you kind of just expect to happen—like having kids—are all of a sudden jeopardized. I definitely didn't think that I would get married and then after four months have to fight to stay alive. I thought we'd be figuring out how to live together, like, you make dinner on these nights, and I'll make dinner on the other nights. Instead, it's like, can you make it to this doctor's appointment with the hematologist?

It's kind of a weird way to start our little married life. Unexpected, for sure. But I know that God has a plan. I don't know why I'm supposed to have cancer, and I'm not asking. All I can do is trust him.

And sleep a lot.

And be with people who love me. Ishel came over this afternoon and we just had a good sister cry. We ate dill pickles (which are oddly comforting. Probably because they taste like our childhood) and chips with guacamole for dinner. Derek got home from school not long after that and was stalwart and comforting as ever. It's okay that this is the new reality, because I have so many people who love me.