Spreading the news...

As bad as receiving the news that your life is coming to an abrupt end, I have found that sharing said news is much worse.

Having to actually articulate the phrase, "I've been given 5 years, top" is awful no matter how you try sugar coating it.

Plus, there's always that awkward start of the conversation:

Hi, so and so, how's it going?

Not bad, Anna. How are things with you?

Things could be better.

Really? What's wrong?

Well, see, I have incurable disease, it's pretty advanced, and I'll be dead in 5 years, give or take. How are the kids?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, imagine having to have the same conversation multiple times.

You'd think it would get easier.

It doesn't.

Sure the words seem to come out with less and less emotion each time, but that's only because you're slowly running out of tears and patience. Patience, because there's only so much pity one person can handle, unless you also suffer from Munchausen. Sadly, I do not. If I did, I would be living the dream instead of this nightmare.

I swear, if I hear one more person say, "I'm so sorry." I think I'll scream, then punch them in the throat.

So why not wait and tell people until later, until you've had time to live with your mortality and acclimate to the new status quo? Honestly? Because misery loves company.

Sharing the pain immediately is akin to ripping the bandaid off quickly. Having to live with this knowledge alone is a burden, and quite frankly that's just too much for me right now. Better to let folks know right away, and suffer through the pain of saying the words, than to live with the pain alone.

It's my hope that as time goes on, the pain of saying the words lessens to a numbing sensation. We'll see.