Does it ever end?

I would first like to apologize for hiding out the last few weeks but I am not feeling well. It has been eight long weeks. Tonight I am three doses from ending chemo. Wednesday is supposed to be the last dose. Or so I hope. Last month I discovered another lump. My oncologist tripled my chemo for fear of it being more cancer. He does not believe I am strong enough currently to undergo another surgery. And as strong as I pretend to be, deep down I know he is right. Saturday I will be thirty-four years old. In the last year I have been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and Breast Cancer.  I have always been a very active and athletic person. Currently I can’t make it out of bed for much more then my shift at work. Some days, less than that. I find myself staring in the mirror wondering what happened to me.  My long beautiful red curls are cut short to accommodate the thinning caused by the medication. There are dark circles under the once radiant mysterious dark brown eyes. I seem to be prone to acne that doesn’t want to clear due to my body’s inability to heal properly replaces what was once flawless soft skin. Any muscle tone is now flabby. Not that I ever had the body of an Olympic athlete, but my thighs didn’t touch and require twenty minutes to stop rubbing after I have stopped walking. My soft tan skin is now dry, pale, and itchy. Who is the woman looking back at me? What could she have done to deserve this? With some make-up, gel, and several hours I can be presentable for the outside world. But no amount of cosmetics or other products can stop what I am feeling inside.  Saying I am overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to touch it. Emotional and physically I am so run down I can barely function. Finically I am drowning.  My eight year old son was told at school this week that people die from Cancer. Apparently he was yet to completely understand our situation. How do you not cry when your child looks at you and says “You’re a survivor right mom?” Survivors are supposed to come out stronger on the other side of these things.  Survivors are the people that appear to be hero’s for beating this sort of things. Survivors don’t find additional lumps. Survivors don’t let their condition consume them.  Survivors have the answers for their children without feeling like they just lied to them. I do not lie to my child. I promised to be honest with him through this. But the internal struggle of keeping my promise and protecting this young child is tearing me apart. Let’s not start with how I struggle with how much to tell my friends and family. I will see the doctor again this week.  He knows how I am struggling. He tries to give me advice but let’s face it he’s a great doctor with very little personality.  I’ll update you guys later in the week.