I'm being out blogged.

I am being out blogged. . . . .

By a thirteen year old!

Not that this is a competition,

But she is just so damn cute.

Now I’m going to promote her,

It’s Tavi ie thenewgirlintown.blogspot.com

I have to say our niches are far different

Hers is haute couture fashion

And mine is . . . well. . . less fantasy more slap you in the face with the reality of life

But I can still think she is cute.

At least, I know, that I have WAY BETTER friends.

Thanks to everyone who has helped feed me, clean me, drag me out of my hovel during these past couple weeks that I let my depression win out and decided that my fight with cancer was really OVER and nobody had admitted it to me yet.

I am doing better now.

I won't even pretend that I have been able to even cope a little bit with my disease without the huge support system I have.

I do know that despite some very terrible health problems, I am a very lucky girl. Just look to the right. Thanks ladies.

I find it helpful to look at where I have improved from at my lowest point.

My lowest point during my pneumonia I could barely roll over.

I laid quietly, immobile, just trying to make the pain going away and keep my breath.

I am better.

Now, I am going to start denying that terrible day ever happened.

I’m going to focus on the fun I did have, what I can do.

I can contribute significantly to Xander’s life despite my illness. I still help coach soccer. I still taught him to tie his shoes. I still cooked him blueberry cure all muffins.

I can still write, even though I am just barely getting back to the point where I want to.

I was seriously depressed.

That means I enjoyed NOTHING.

It’s called anhedonia for all you who want to know big vocab words to sound smart.

It is hard not to be depressed when you have a line protruding from your chest, hurting, reminding you at every turn, “You are sick. You have cancer. You need a hard core broad spectrum anti-biotic or you’ll die. And, oh yeah, we’re going to put this line in the most uncomfortable inconvenient spot ever, your son’s snuggle spot. Every time he goes to rest his head on your chest you’ll jump in pain. NO SNUGGLING FOR YOU!”

Thank goodness that is gone. The port is intenal now. I am going to learn to love it.

We’re going to have one serious, loving, long term relationship.

But I can live and express myself through my writing. I can still hope to make this process easier for others in the future.

I can engage in the political debate and rhetoric regarding health care reform.

There are a lot of “I Cans” here.

I think I’ll be okay.

I’m so lucky to have friends who saw the writing on the wall and refused to stop calling, coming by, or bringing food.

You are all incredibly special, even if you're not in the pictures, you know I love you. You're my inspiration for getting through.

You reminded me the world is great and that it’s worth living in.