I Cry, Too.

"OMG You're so positive!" 

"You're handling cancer like a champ!"

"You don't even seem like you have cancer!"

"Just always smiling, aren't you?!?"

I think a lot of people are under the impression that cancer has been easy for me and that I'm rocking it. Pshhh and I am 100% rocking it. But that doesn't mean that I'm happy all the time or that cancer is easy for me. It's not easy to smile all the time and keep a positive outlook, it's just who I am so it's what I do. But just for a few minutes, here's a glimpse into the hard, ugly side of my lymphoma so far.

When I was diagnosed, I didn't cry. When I went in for surgery for my biopsy, and then bone marrow biopsy, and then my port, I didn't cry. I didn't know why I wasn't crying all the time even when I wanted to - and then I understood. I needed David. Growing up, when dad was in the hospital and mom was gone visiting him and Joseph and Michelle were away at college, David and I spent a lot of time together. Every big or traumatic event, David's been there for me to cry with and be scared with and then smile with. But he's gone, and South Africa seems a world away. It wasn't just that I missed him. I needed him. When I got to Skype with him the day after he found out I have cancer, I took the tablet into my room so I could talk to him alone. We had a hard time even talking for a little bit because we both just cried...and cried...and cried a little more....and it was the greatest blessing I've experienced so far. I desperately needed those few minutes of letting the weight of what was going on crush me as David and I cried under the fear of what was going on. I didn't just need to cry. I needed to cry with David, and once I got that, I was okay.

For the most part, I'm okay. I just have little moments. Sometimes I just cry on the way to work or the way home from work or the way to the store or at the store or on the way home from the store... It's a problem.

I cry because this is a new reality that I didn't ask for and I didn't want.

I cry because sometimes getting out of bed is really, really, really hard. Like harder than normal. And I love my bed a whole heap, man.

I cry when I reach up to fix my hair in the parking lot and realize it isn't there.

I cry when people at the store stare at me and change their tone of voice when they say things like "aw, how are you doing today, sweetheart?" ...I have cancer. I'm not your sweetheart. Just let me pay for my pickles and bread, mmmmkay?

I cry in frustration when I had a kick-butt lesson planned and have to miss school - and my students end up watching a movie.

I cry in fear when I read articles or blogs about people who are going through lymphoma for their third or fourth or fifth time because I can't even deal with having it once.

I cry when I see hair tutorials on Pinterest and can't try them on myself.

I cry because sometimes I get really, really lonely and feel like no one understands. And then I turn my phone back on and have texts from amazing friends just letting me know they're there. And then I cry because I don't know what I did to deserve these incredible people.

I cry when I think about the fact that I still have 9 treatments left and that they're going to get worse.

I cry in anger when I can't do everything I want to do because I'm sick.

I cry because I miss not worrying about cancer and just worrying about things like finding a spider in the bathroom or running out of clean clothes.

I cry in the mornings when I see the sunshine and realize I can't go play in it. Chemo makes me super sensitive to sunlight and if I get a sunburn, I will pretty much stay sunburned until the end of treatment. Because that's a super fun perk of cancer.

I cry because I miss David and I have to go through the hardest part of my life without my best friend.

I cry when I get cancer emails from my doctor because it reminds me that I have cancer. I know that makes no sense, but I'm a girl, so deal with it.

I cry in gratitude when people do nice things for me.

I cry when I get packages or gifts that are so heartfelt and perfect that I can't even believe it.

I cry when I get encouraging emails from David that quote movies - because he just gets what I need. Even when it's a Newsies quote that involves cuss words. That's right - I make missionaries swear. This is why I have cancer.

I cry when friends call me just because or text me uplifting quotes.

I cry when my students offer to push me around the room on my rolly chair on the days when it hurts to walk.

I cry when I read my scriptures and realize that God has a plan for me and that cancer is just a little part in that plan.

I cry when I accidentally spend two hours watching YouTube videos of soldiers coming home or people serving people or the underdog winning a competition. Seriously, watch THIS VIDEO now. It gets me every. freaking. time. Go. Watch it. I have cancer and I want you to watch it so that means you have to watch it. **Notice the wonderful use of the cancer card right there. Crushed it.**

Anyway, this has been a brief glimpse into the emotional mess that is Tina Moore. I really, truly, 100% am still loving life and dealing with everything like a boss. 96.4% of the time.

When to Talk and When to Shut Up.

I don't mean to be harsh, but there are some things you just should and should not say to someone who has cancer.

It's OKAY to say you're sorry. It shows that you care and recognize that this is hard.

It's NOT OKAY to refer to my cancer as a spiritual journey. I know that might be how you see it, but when someone tells me I'm on a spiritual journey, it makes me feel like my cancer was given to me because I wasn't good enough without it.

It's OKAY to ask about how things are going. I'm open to talking about my experiences - it's just life.

It's NOT OKAY to tell a huge, long story about your uncle's cousin's brother's mother-in-law twice removed who battled cancer and died a terrible death. Like, really, how is that possibly going to make me feel better?!?

It's OKAY to talk about or ask about my specific kind of cancer. There are a bajillion different kinds of cancer, all with different stages and treatments, and it's totally fine to have questions about my diagnosis.

It's NOT OKAY to say "You look good, you must feel good!" ...Or I spent two hours in front of the mirror perfecting my make up to hide the bags under my eyes and the tear lines and the signs of feeling awful. Just because I feel gross doesn't mean I want to look gross.

It's OKAY to say you support/love/care about me. Obviously. This is always okay! I love love!

It's NOT OKAY to say you know what I'm going through because one time you had your tonsils removed. I get that we all have our trials, and I know you are trying to help, but you just don't know. Cancer is different, and my cancer is different from thyroid cancer or breast cancer or your cousin's lymphoma. It's just so different.

It's OKAY to share scriptures or uplifting thoughts. I LOVE when I get texts or messages that are just upliftings quotes. I can never get enough happy thoughts!

It's NOT OKAY to ask how much time I have left to live. Believe it or not, this has happened. This is like asking a woman if she is pregnant. Just don't do it. I'm not dying, and if I were and wanted you to know, you'd know.

It's OKAY to not know what to say. Cancer is hard and unexpected, and I don't expect you to know what to say because a lot of times I don't even know what to say.

It's NOT OKAY to tell me "It's just hair, it'll grow back," or "At least it will be over in six months." No, it's not just hair, and it's not just six months. It's a part of me and a part of my life I'll never get back in the same way. Please don't minimize that pain.

It's OKAY to cry. Trust me, I'm the master.

It's OKAY to say any of these things. I know that cancer isn't something we're all prepared to deal with, and I know that even when people say these things that are painful and kind of rough to hear, their intentions are pure and they are trying to help. So don't try to censor yourself around me or treat me like I'm about to break into a million pieces, because let's get real, I already have cancer, so whatever you say isn't gonna make it worse. :)

What is Cancer Like?

One of my oh-so-cute-and-innocent-to-the-point-they-sometimes-remind-me-of-muppets seventh graders asked me today, "What is cancer like?" I gave him some innocent answer that would make a lovely line in a musical, but it started the wheels in my head a-turnin. What is cancer like? I bet it's different for everyone, but here's 15 lovely examples of what cancer is like so far for me.

1. Cancer is constantly touching your hair because it has an expiration date sooner than the cereal you just bought.

2. Cancer is constantly waiting for appointments. And more appointments. And more appointments.

3. Cancer is wondering if everyone else in the waiting room is as lost as you feel.

4. Cancer is skipping over sad songs because you just can't deal.

5. Cancer is online shopping for chemo hats on Friday night.

6. Cancer is figuring out what your legacy would be. At 23.

7. Cancer is hugging people just because.

8. Cancer is crying in the grocery store.

9. Cancer is taking selfies of every hairstyle so you remember the hair you love.

10. Cancer is having your name repeated in the church announcements.

11. Cancer is realizing just how separate your mind and body can be.

12. Cancer is crying in the car. And at church. And at school.

13. Cancer is listening to old country music that reminds you of those long summer afternoons growing up.

14. Cancer is reassuring your seventh graders that lymphoma is not, in fact, contagious.

15. Cancer is smiling at others more because "what if they just found out they have cancer?"