A few nights ago, I sat on the couch watching the TLC channel’s show “Say Yes to the Dress”. The show boggles my mind for many reasons. I am blown away by the woman forking over three grand for a dress. If I had three grand, I am pretty sure I wouldn’t be buying a dress with it. I also get confused by how happy these women are about getting married. I wonder if they are really that happy.  Is that how you are supposed to be when you get married? Are you supposed to look your best and be so happy you sweat smiley faces?

Well, there was this one chick and she was from Long Island. She was supper cute and sweet. She had a great tan and her mom was with her. She had on the big chunky necklace and when she took it off, I saw a very familiar scar around her neck. It turned out the girl did have thyroid cancer. It was unbelievable watching her mom talk about watching her daughter go through the surgeries and treatments.  At first I was like, “come on lady, it wasn’t that big of a deal” because to me it never was that big of a deal. I had thyroid cancer. I had the surgeries. I had the radiation. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. But I think I didn’t think it was a big deal because I was missing something.

I’m not saying I didn’t have people concerned for me. The first surgery I had an entourage.

But I didn’t have my mother. There is just a connection between a mother and her child that no one and nothing can replace.

I started thinking what my mother would have said if we were the people being interviewed on the show. First off, in truth, my mother would not have gone on the show. Also, I probably would have had cancer for a lot longer.

But, let’s pretend my mother was being interviewed. Would she have welded up knowing I battled cancer? Would she have been impressed that I won? Would she have been there in that hospital room with me? Would she have stayed the night as my little bulb hanging out of my neck filled with blood?

I don’t remember anyone being afraid for me. It was as if people just assumed I would be fine after the surgeries. People always assume I am fine.

I think it’s unfair I had to watch her die and she wasn’t there for me through my cancer. Wasn’t that her job? Was it really my job at 17 to pay for her funeral?

I know we can play that “she was there” game. Everything happens for a reason and all of that stuff.

But just for a moment, let’s look at the cold, hard facts. She wasn’t there. No matter how much others love me; it doesn’t replace a mother’s love. I don’t have that anymore. I lost that at 17. What the hell is up with that?

 I’m so sick of being the strong one. When the hell is someone going to carry me?