Buttermilk

Last week was well...

Hell Week.

As I accompanied my mom and dad to appointments last week, 

I was focused. 

I had a purpose.

I had a duty to them.

I was doing, and working, and talking, and explaining, and asking, and scheduling.

I held it together.

For them.

When they left to go home Friday after four full days of all things cancer,

I was alone.

Camden was at school.

Navy napping.

I sat on the couch and it all came crashing down on me.

I had no job.

No duty.

No purpose.

It was just me and my thoughts.

My fears.

My grief.

I sobbed into the pillow, my shoulders shaking.

I was tired.

Emotional stress was taking its toll on my body.

I had no motivation to do anything.

I didn't want to go to work.

I didn't want to do the laundry.

Or my dishes.

Or make dinner.

Homework was forgotten.

Hair went unwashed.

I did manage to make a menu and go grocery shopping.

Then Saturday as I looked in my fridge, I noticed two large bottles of buttermilk and half and half.

I could not remember why I bought those.

I'm sure they were for a recipe I had planned, 

but when I looked back at my menu, no recipe called for buttermilk.

Or half and half. 

So there they sit.

A reminder of the mental fog that was hell week.

The fog is clearing,

and the grief comes and goes.

The fear stays constant.

And brings me to my knees most mornings.

And to tears most evenings, as I cry into Jason's arms until I fall asleep.

Twelve weeks until my mom's surgery.

Twelve weeks of chemo.

Twelve weeks of side effects.

Twelve weeks of watching my beloved mother fight.

Three (ish) weeks until she loses her hair.

Twelve weeks of watching my dad tenderly hold my mom's hand every opportunity he gets,

knowing every day with her is a blessing.

And that's just the first three sessions.

After her surgery, will be another twelve weeks.

Another three sessions.

For the next six months, our lives will be consumed with cancer.

So until this nightmare is over,

and my mother is cancer free,

I will find things to be grateful for.

And on Mondays I will sit down and blog about my gratitude. 

Because I will not let cancer overshadow blessings and tender mercies from my Heavenly Father.

On my first "Gratitude Monday",

I am grateful for my loving husband.

Without being asked, he has picked up the slack this week and been the quiet comfort that I have needed.

I always tease him that he is so unsympathetic towards me.

He's a very tough love kind of husband.

But this week has been different.

And my love for him has grown as I cling to him for support.

He even planned a surprise date for me Saturday night. 

We laughed, we judged other restaurant go-ers from our corner booth,

and we didn't talk about cancer once. 

It was exactly what I needed.

He is exactly what I need.

And exactly who I want by my side during the uncertain months ahead.

This week, our family prepares to pull up our boot straps and face the enemy.

Hell week is over.

And now it is time to fight.

She fights.

And we pray.