Am I the first mother who, after hearing her daughter has cancer, thought, "This should have happened to me"?
The thing is, my daughter has girls in school and holds down a job. She drives a long distance to work every day. She's gone from home for about twelve hours a day during the week.
Rachel doesn't have time to have cancer.
I'm retired. I have all the time in the world, and Cliff isn't tied down by a job, either. I could have cancer and he could take me to chemo every day, and it would all work out fine. What else are we doing?
I wouldn't mind losing my hair. I was a bald-headed baby, and I'm pretty sure I could deal with a bald head again.
After I made an appointment to get my tattoo, I had a discussion with my oldest grandson that went like this:
Arick: "Now that you're getting a tattoo, Heather (his girl friend) wants to get one; I'm not letting her do it."
Me: "But she is of age. If she wants a tattoo, you shouldn't stop her."
Arick: "I know her too well; within a week, she'd hate it and regret getting it."
Me: "Do you think I will regret getting a tattoo?"
Arick: "No, Grandma, cause you don't give a sh*t."
He isn't wrong. That's why I'd be fine with a bald head. I might even get a tattoo on my bald head, if it were me undergoing chemo.
But it isn't me, it's my daughter. And there's no way I can take her cancer and make it mine. I stand helplessly by and hope for the best.