Posted by: fosteringcare | December 31, 2011

Must. Get. Feelings. Out. Must. Write.

I haven’t been writing in a while. I haven’t been feeling for a while. I actually haven’t been “present” for quite a while. Overload doesn’t even begin to cover it.

 
Writing has been my outlet for as long as I can remember being able to write. I used to go crazy if I could not write, could not get my feelings out somehow…I HAD to write. At this point in my life I guess I’ve proven I can go five months without insanity kicking in…wait, maybe I can’t…maybe I AM crazy. Oh, that would explain so much!

 
What’s pushed me over the edge to actually have NO CHOICE but to write?

My mentor, my rock through the evil of new Breast Cancer diagnosis, my “There now, there, there now” Mama Figure is headed back into rough, scary, unknown waters. Maybe it’s the known waters that are actually scarier.
Explaining Debbie is ridiculous, there’s no point really. Nothing I can try to put in words could convey the safety I felt when we would text or chat or talk in the wee hours of Cancer, when the rest of the world is blissfully asleep. No flowery adjectives or impressive metaphors are able to capture the love, empathy and courage she instilled in me as she patiently answered every question I asked, even when the answer was beyond horrific.

Many times I posted links to her blog, her DAILY, WITOUT FAIL, yearlong blog about her personal Breast Cancer journey, (here it is again…www.writergirldreams.com. It is a must read for those of us in the “Pink Club”), a shameless, honest, raw, tear your heart out journey that makes us feel so normal. I wanted to put her in my pocket and pull her out every second I felt scared, to give her as Birthday presents, Christmas presents and Just Because presents. Because I believe EVERY single person I know would gain sooooo much enrichment in their lives just by knowing her.

 
It was only fitting that we were supposed to have surgery on the same day next week…me to fix my ankle, (not even going there), and for her – her new boobs she’s been dreaming about and waiting forever for!! We’d even planned our recuperation in some remote, exotic tropical place, with specially trained RN/island boys to tend to us and tulips everywhere. Thing is… she’s not getting her surgery.

My Debbie has to go for an MRI instead. My Debbie has a very painful “pinched nerve” that they think might be “something” in her spine. My Debbie has to entertain the thought of the unthinkable.

That is what has pushed me over the edge.

 
I have not physically met her yet, but thousands of others have. She’s spoken all over CA at Race for the Cures, Relay for Life, etc…but I will. I will get out there to CA and wrap my arms around her and stroke her beautiful blonde curls and tell her, “There now. There, there now.” Pray for my Debbie.

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Responses

  1. Awww Girl, you are making me cry on New Years Eve!!! Thank you for reminding me of the good that came along with all this
    cancer crap. I would give none of it back when you remind me we never would have met if this had not happened. I would not give it back. Not one scary sick lousy crying terrified minute. I would not give it back. Love you Sister, my Jane Marie, lots of tulip kisses

  2. Debbie is my Debbie, too. She was my rock and my mentor during my 2011 battle with ovarian cancer. I can’t say enough about her love, tenderness, vulnerability, anger, realism, candidness, informativeness, etc. etc. She helped me soooooo much during my cancer crap. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe it’s an MRI instead of new boobies. I am praying for you, Deb. Hard. Please call when you can. When you want an ear. When you want to know how much you are treasured.
    I love you. Desertpirate.


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