It was bound to happen. I finally cried last night.
The English language is full of descriptive expressions that I have come to understand viscerally in the last couple of months. Heavy heart. Heartbreaking. Gut-wrenching. Wracked with sobs.
When the dam finally broke, I cried with my whole body, until my chest ached and my throat was raw.
I was crying for how awful this is - being "sick", disfigurement, fear of dying, the prospect of chemotherapy, anger and fear that I can't and won't be there for my children, losing my hair, early menopause, all the horrible side effects of cancer and its treatment, losing myself as a sexual being. And for how it's possible to feel loved and cared for and still be so utterly lonely.
It really was bound to happen at some point. And I guess it was good that it did.
Having cancer is really, really hard.
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