Silencing My Inner Big Baby

I hate being sick.

I’ve always hated being sick. My bottom lip sticks out and everything. The hardest part are the tantrums. My inner child is a brat.

Kat Caverly as the Big Baby photo no.1, Oct. 17, 2013

My outer child hugs her close. She tells her, “We have to do this.” She’s the big sister. “We’ll do fine.”

Deep down I know we never really know for sure. Still, I am grateful for the optimism.

Truth is, I am just not a very good sick person, which explains why, even with a diagnosis of cancer, I still refuse to think I am sick. My inner Big Baby thinks I am just making myself sick. “Stop it!”, she screams. Sadly, I know that I cannot.

Kat Caverly as the Big Baby photo no.2, Oct. 17, 2013

I have to stubbornly do it again. And again. Then again. The cure is not worse than the disease. There may be no cure. Twenty years from now, with still no evidence of cancer, I still may not be able to say I am cancer-free. Wait, what?

No wonder my inner child is a big baby. My adult wants to throw a tantrum some days. I want to feel healthy again. I know life comes with no such guarantee, and we have learned mostly not to dwell on the worst possibilities. Laughter chases away this cloud better than anything else I know.

Kat Caverly as the Big Baby photo no.3, Oct. 17, 2013

Cancer ain’t no joke. To be able to still enjoy life I must be able to find something, anything, to laugh at or with, because of and in spite of. Finding the funny in everything, including cancer, is a valuable skill. It’s a good thing I can laugh at myself, and the absurdity of being human.

So to truly silence my inner Big Baby I need to tickle her with laughter. Then, if even but for a few precious moments, we forget all about the cold cruel light of day, and we dance in the sunshine!


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