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.
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.
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...
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