Cancer Filter

Every single thought I have now has to pass through the cancer filter.  It's not that I have sentenced myself to death but more because I am brutally aware of how alive I am right now, in this moment.  For the most part, the awareness it is a gift, I forgive a little faster and hug my children a little tighter.  But on the flip side I am constantly bombarded with very dark yet totally realistic thoughts of death.  My brain cannot send my son off to his first day of 5th grade without wondering how many more grades I will get to see him through.  Or comb my daughter's hair without wondering who would do it when I am gone. And above all else, I have this urgency to turn my sometimes audacious son into a compete gentleman, stat. Sadistic?  Maybe, but I can't help it.  While watching T.V. last night my husband and I found ourselves in a conversation about what clothes were appropriate for teenage girls and all I could think was "I cannot die and leave my husband to dress our little girl" .  Sorry, babe.  I need to be there for them, there just isn't another option.  But I do wish my good days and increasingly positive attitude weren't so clouded by that damn cancer filter.

I am on the tail end of Taxol, the current chemo drug I am on.  Somehow I have made it without losing all my hair.  I start 3 new chemotherapy drugs in the next 2 weeks and I was told that these drugs cause severe hair loss.  This is what it looks like now.  Head shaving party soon? Who's in?