Language set to English:Vicodin

I've put all this pressure on myself to have a "funny" blog. To share the positive spin on things. But as my father reminded me tonight, I just need to share where I'm at. I certainly try to be strong and try to be positive, but the honest truth is, that just wouldn't be my truth. Some days just plain suck. And I've only just started this climb. The lumpectomy was a walk in the park compared to the hell I know I'm facing over the next few months. And I'm scared shitless. The only difference is, some days it gets to me, and some days it doesn't. The one thing that doesn't change is that I know I can't do it without this incredible support system that has assembled itself around me. I wonder how people do it without a supportive posse. Many nurses and doctors were talking about the crew that was gathered in the waiting room during my surgery. And it's these little amazing moments that get me through. Like my first post-op shower, my mother just sitting on the floor outside the bathroom door incase I needed anything. I get it, I'm 29 years old. But I still appreciate that. And honestly, I needed that. And the constant flow of pumpkin spice chai's making their way over in the hands of my best friend. Somehow, life is just always better with your B(fucking)FF sitting on the couch next to you. And the overwhelming amount of support from calls and texts, to flowers and care-packages. People have told me that they didn't know what to do for me or what to say. Some even "googled" in search of answers (which is just the cutest damn thing I've ever heard). And I certainly didn't know the answers. Hell, we were going through this together. It was all new to me too. What can you do for someone with cancer? We were all learning at the same time. But now I know. It's the little reminders just to let them know they're not alone, we're in this fight together. That's all I need. Because it's true. And I didn't really understand this until I was in it. Because this cancer doesn't just effect me. I've seen it on my co-workers faces. I've seen the tears fall down my best friend's face. And the look on my mothers face the other day when she asked me if I was saving a gifted blanket for chemo. Almost like the word "chemo" itself punched her in the stomach. One thing I'm sure she never planned on saying to her daughter. But it's in these moments that I am reminded that I have this amazing team behind me. And my team is going to win.