Have I been sounding negative?

I hope nobody gets the idea that I think my daughter won't kick this cancer thing.  That is the farthest thing from my mind.  I've seen too many people, some with really horrible cancer, come out the winner.  
I just wish she didn't have to go through all the stuff you have to endure to get rid of cancer.  I do realize that chemo isn't as bad as it used to be.  Also, I'm not even sure she will have to have chemo; all I know is, she has a port.  It's like I said before, she just doesn't have time for all that junk.  


I should probably explain what my grandson meant when I quoted him in the previous entry, because it wasn't a disrespectful thing.  He meant that I don't give a... let's say hoot, yeah, that works... I don't give a hoot about appearances, especially mine.  I run around in faded sweats or T-shirts and really don't care who sees me.  Sometimes I need to be reminded to comb my hair.  I've never bothered with makeup.  Cliff follows me around constantly keeping the size tags shoved inside my shirts so they're not hanging out for the world to see, like the tags on Minnie Pearl's hat.  
It's this same attitude that allows me to live in an old mobile home and be content, as long as I can look out and see God's creation.  I just don't care about the things that most people worry over.  None of that "stuff" seems important to me.  
I have embarrassed Cliff a time or two when people would be gushing over a new house, showing pictures of every nook and cranny and sharing all the details, and I failed to show any excitement.  I just can't get excited over a house.  If you want to see enthusiasm out of me, let me see your new Nook or Ipad.  Give me a new computer and I won't leave the house for days.  Show me a bargain price on a gentle, bred Jersey cow... that will get me off the computer and on the road.    
I also get excited, as you've probably noticed, when one of my flowers blooms, or when somebody gives me a mess of morel mushrooms.  
I have strange priorities.  But when it comes to certain things, I DO give a... hoot.  

Am I the first?

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.