Photo credit: Healthy Tips
Last week I was up North on company business, and stayed at my BFF Will's house which is right down the road from work (how convenient!). To give you an idea of our relationship, here's a conversation we had shortly after my surgery:
Will: How are you feeling?
Me: Good. I'll be back to normal in 2 weeks.
Will: You've never been "normal" -- don't hope that you'll start now.
As the Will to my Grace, he's never minced words (and I'd have it no other way). During my visit, we were both tooling away on our respective MacBooks (of course!) and Extreme Home Makeover came on. This particular episode revolved around a mom who had inoperable cancer. While I tend to cry at sad movies*, it's usually during an actual sad part where the crying occurs. These days, during recovery, it takes just the thought of something sad and the waterworks start up. I'm such a freaking sissy. And it's not just the mopey crocodile tears. It's full on heaving sobs. Gak...
Will, bless his heart, turned it right off. I apologized for being a wuss, but in his wonderful Will way he told me how strong I am, how I've beaten cancer twice, and how I'm allowed to cry now and then. Cut to today, when I watched The Express, the fantastic movie based on the life of college football hero Ernie Davis, the first African-American to win the Heisman Trophy.
### Spoiler alert ### After winning the Heisman, he gets drafted by the Cleveland Browns, but dies at the age of 23 of leukemia before playing a single down. Yes, the leukemia that's cancer of the blood or bone marrow.
Cue the waterworks, and the heaving, and the sobbing. Our poor puppies got confused, so they came over and began giving me love. Maybe as I get further away from this particular bout with cancer and closer to our new baby next year, it'll get easier. For now, I'm just avoiding sad stories.
*Let's be honest, I cry at anything sad, dramatic, romantic or emotional.