I live in a house, where everyone's been dealing with cancer for over 8 months. Not because of me, but for my sisters fight. Her kids and husband watched her taken by the invader. I watched her.
I cared for my mom while she slowly slipped away in a years time. Caring for my sister along side them (the kids and her husband) was second nature because of that year with my mother.
With that said, I have grown very forgiving of the lack of interest in.... well, me, in general. I was sorry for getting sick. Sorry for having to put them through it while they were dealing with so much. Sorry for having to loose my hair and visually remind them of my cancer. Just sorry that I'm such a burden on them.
Though, I can't pretend it doesn't hurt. It does. It hurts more than I can explain. I live in a house where I don't matter. Where my cancer doesn't matter. Where I'm okay, really... I'm just fine.
I wish I had something profound and inspiring for you but all I have is that I find you incredibly brave and inspiring and you are in my prayers.
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