that word makes me nervous.
it makes me scared.
it causes my mind to play scenarios that aren’t healthy for me to imagine.
it rattles me. emotionally. mentally. physically.
yet, i handle it better when it’s my aunt who’s getting it done.
not, my tylerbug.
not, my precious, adorable, could eat those chipmunk cheeks, 8-month-old nephew.
i don’t handle 8-month-old’s getting chemotherapy very well.
but, tylerbug is already stronger than me.
he proves it everytime he laughs at me when i blow on his belly.
he proves it when he smiles so big i can see his teeth.
he is stronger than me.
and i am learning multitudes through his journey.