Different Day. Thank God.

I have to use that old cliche - what a difference a day makes. I feel good, strong(ish) and with the exception of an hour or two of bad thoughts, I had a great day. An easy day with Bennett who is still getting over a cold. Pat came home early and took B to the park with BFF Avy. I had a few hours alone which I thought I would use to take a nap. I didn't need one, or my fear didn't want me to have one because all I did was lie there and think of scary scenarios.

I have to admit that I was online today. I was doing some surfing about canning (which I still want to do, but am banned from touching produce, so can't) and came upon an interesting site. As I was reading, it became clear the blogger's mom was in the midst of chemo and before I could look away, I was reading stats about life expectancy etc. It totally freaked me out. I am grateful for every day and I pray that I will read the archives of this blog when I am 80, but 2.4 years or 7.5 years or whatever this study said completely fed my fear's voice and that was that. I basically spent my nap time crying and worrying about Bennett liking her new mom better than me, or worse not remembering me at all. It was b. a. d. bad.

Yesterday, when I was prone all afternoon and talking to my mom, she told me I needed a project. I whined a lot about how the projects I used to do are not compelling and the sweater I started knitting last winter is going to be too big now, etc etc. Just thank your lucky stars you are not my mom, the conversation was pretty pathetic on my part. So...my mom sent me an encouraging e-mail and I have spent the evening knitting while watching Top Chef. I even repaired a sweater that a friend gave me to fix last year. Ahhhh, that feels good. I am definitely knitting tighter than I have in the past - pulling that yarn a little too hard while making a cap to cover what will be my shiny pate.

I thought I was going to miss the losing of the hair, but Pat informed me that I have a bald spot on the top of my head. Oh man. I knew the front was getting pretty thin, but a bald spot? I better knit fast! Now I just have to figure out what the markers will be for the big shave. How big a bald spot? How many bald spots? Just how thin and dead does my hair have to look before I can get the nerve to shave it? And why does it have to be in winter? I should have planned this better.

That's some painful irony there.

On that note, I will say goodnight. I will ask outright for prayers and good, right thoughts. I really need them tonight to chase the fear away. Together our voices and thoughts will drown out that wily, unwelcome fear and bring in the light.