I am scared out of my mind.  Nothing in the world ever prepared me for the fear I am experiencing.

I spent part of today with Josie, Susan's eight-year-old daughter, and we had a really nice time.  I took her to the Discovery Center and we build a flower, and she had a lot of fun.  We went to Noodles and shared two dinners:  Alfredo with spinach and chicken, and oh hell, what is that called?  Noodles, beef, mushrooms, sour cream sauce?

We had our fun, I took her home, she curled up with her mother on the couch, and I ached at having spent a day with Josie that should have been Susan's to spend with her.

The decline I have seen in Susan has been utterly horrifying. Considering that only a week ago tomorrow she decided to see a doctor, and now she does little other than sleep and can take in only a quarter of a serving of

Stoganoff -- that's what it was.

Ensure.

I WANT to be strong, and I pray in every single moment that Susan will be a SURVIVOR, but I'm scared beyond what I've ever imagined to be scared.

Dear God, take me instead.  My son's grown.

The Hit

An asteroid hit my planet, and threw my world into chaos. My axis has been slammed into a new and unsettling alignment... and I just want it go back the way it was.

Nothing in my vast array of life experiences prepared me to hear my sister say "I've got ovarian cancer."

I need to write about this... about my sister and how much I love and need her, about the impact this diagnosis is having on my life.

It's not about me, but it is about me.

Facebook isn't the place for this, because I've always loathed and ridiculed people who put too much out there.  Whether or not anyone ever sees this blog, I am starting this as my shout out to the universe that I'm not going to take this gracefully.