Here are the things I think, but don't say:
1. I don't want him to die. And when I think about that 5-10% I burst into tears and hyperventilate.
2. I'm terrified. You know when you're watching a scary movie and the music picks up and you know something is about to jump out and your adrenaline starts pumping? That's me, 24/7.
3. I feel guilty. Did I do something in this life or the last to cause this? Maybe if I were healthier during pregnancy? Maybe if I was a stay-at-home mom? Maybe if I read to him more? Maybe if I forced him to eat those damn carrots?
4. I'm pissed. I'm so angry. I know what he is being robbed of, what he is going to have to physically endure, and I'm mad as hell.
5. I'm scared of what cancer is going to cost us, financially. And then feel guilty for worrying about money when his life is on the line.
6. I pity Ethan. I grew up with a chronically ill sibling. It sucks.
7. I'm scared that our family and friends are going to get sick of dealing with us. That in a few weeks, the texts and posts and cards and encouragement will stop. I'm afraid everyone will "get used to it" and that when this happens, I will fall apart. Because that's all that's keeping me together right now.
8. I want my little boy back. The steroids leave him asking for food all the time. They cause roid rage. Who is this child that throws plates and screams at me? Why am I not more grateful that he is here? Who cares if he is a beast?
9. I'm scared to be his sole caretaker. If he dies, it's my fault. I'm scared to let anyone else do it. No one loves him as much as I do.
10. I'm sad. I'm sad that our life as we knew it is over. We have a new life now. I'm sad for what cancer has done to us, for what it's still going to do to us.