In another week, it will have been 9 months since I rushed my husband to the emergency room, thinking he was having a stroke.
As you can guess from the nature of this blog, it turned out he wasn’t having a stroke. Things were much worse than just that.
It feels both like an eternity, and like a few weeks, ago.
I had figured on this first, initial post on Frell Cancer as being all informative about how our journey into the glioblastoma world began. And where all we’ve been.
But I realized that I can’t stomach writing it all out tonight.
And frankly, there’s so much to say. The story itself is so multifaceted and big. And yet only not-quite 9 months old.
I have been posting on Facebook to my family and friends for months. The posts were more frequent in the beginning, but they have become harder and harder to write as often.
There’s a lot of pain in it. And sometimes it feels like people are tired of the crisis.
Perhaps you are like I’ve been, wishing someone was willing to take the time to witness and understand the pain.
Perhaps you are like I was, grappling with a new diagnosis that seems too Hollywood to exist.
Perhaps you are like me, wanting to do everything in your power to shift the odds and stay the tide.
If so, I hope you find it useful, the work I set my hand to do here.