Not really a Facebook reactionary post but a "really, I don't want to post this for everyone to see and react to and think, 'gee she's depressing' post."

So, some things you want to shout to the world to hear and Facebook seems like just the right forum these days for shouting to the world. Some things though you think, "I want to shout this to the world, I want you all to see what I'm dealing with, but I also don't." Ha! We all have those times in our lives, or at least I am quite sure we all have these times, when you feel that sharing one more negative piece of news will send everyone running away from you as fast as possible. I am reminded of a poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, "Solitude." The famous line, "...laugh and the world laughs with you.... grieve and they turn and go." That's depressing shit to pass on in and of itself! And, I don't think it's entirely true. There are friends who will sit by your side while you vomit up life's ugly moments. Friends who will witness what you need to get out in open.

So, if you are one of those people, here's the latest. (And I don't judge anymore those friends who aren't the ones who will be with me in the mire. You are sometimes the ones who toss a lifeline of laughter or something equally positive.)

Mom's MD Anderson trip just wasn't what we wanted. They are quite certain she has cancer in her liver now and the spot they saw months ago wasn't deterred by the chemo. This isn't good news. This means most likely another surgery and more chemo. Now, before I build us all back up with my characteristic Maria let's look on the bright side speech - here's the very possible dark side. This likely means she is Stage IV and not Stage 3 as we were hoping. This means that, if worst case scenario happens, her outlook is not great, positive could be 5 years if the websites I've tortured myself with are correct. It also could mean a road of miserable chemo visits from here to eternity.

It does for sure mean visits to MD Anderson for her every 2 months. Every 2 months of visiting that depressing city of hospitals and far more horrific things to see.

OK, because I am a team player and a motivator at heart, here's the possible upside: They have caught this little spot at a point where it is so damn small the surgeon was adamant he wouldn't be able to see it with his bare eyes. It could be a lesion and they could be totally wrong about it being cancer. OR, a different chemo treatment could be effective, with surgery, and she just may have a bad year. One to two bad years would be completely worth a decade or two of no chemo. The next chemo may not have the same side effects, they may be milder.

Live in the moment right? Right now, it's sunny out and warm. Right now, we just had a great week together. Right now, she's feeling pretty good. Right now, we are all in this together and feeling like supporting each other.

If you have stayed with me while I've shouted this to my mini-blog world, thank you. You are extremely appreciated.