Big chicken

Last week, my Aunt Mary was over at our house helping me out with dinner when  Brett asked me if I had diabetes. He was direct and looked at me in the eyes waiting for a response. I said no, I don't have diabetes. He acted like he wanted me to tell him but said nothing and just stared at me. Why was I scared to tell a 6 year old that his mommy has cancer? Well, probably because it is true, I am a big chicken. 


Then the other day, Madison saw one of the X's on me and said, "Lift up your shirt and show me all of them. I know there are more." I showed her the ones on my ribs. Then she began to count. I didn't offer up any more information. Again, I froze and said nothing. 


This morning when Jeff brought me home from my treatment, she asked how I was feeling and hugged me softly. I told her I felt good and needed her hug to make me feel better.


I know they do not understand the word cancer. I could explain it in a way they can understand: there are germs inside me that the doctors are trying to make go away. And every day during the week I go see the doctor so he can help get them out of me. Yeah, that sounds good. However, this big chicken won't say anything until they ask or mention something again. Bok, bok!


 Item #199: Pray not for things but for wisdom and courage. Today ask for courage when others around you are chicken.


I love your guts!


P.S. Now I am hungry for chicken.