So, well, this sucks.

For what it's worth I never really thought much about cancer outside of how it must be sucky and thank god I don't have it. Yet.
Shallow? Self centered? Yes, I agree. And this after watching my grandmother die of it when I was much shorter. It didn't enter into my thoughts, but hovered on the edge as a nasty possibility.
But that's normal, right? Living in a family with cancer in its history is like that. You don't go around with a giant black cloud over your head, waiting for the inevitable lump to form, do you? You go on you live you breathe you move, love, feel and take life as it comes.

And then you go to the doctor with your mom one day and he tells you that she has a 95 percent chance of having only 6 more months to live. And your initial response still isn't as dramatic as, say, anyone else. Ever, if the doc is to be believed.

It has me rethinking my mental state in general.

I'm shaken, but not thrown. It helps that she and I believe that we'll see each other in the next life. That this is change, transition. There's a certain amount of melancholy but we're keeping it in check.
It's certainly possible that I'm dealing with this through a haze of shock but I don't think so. I'm either very well adjusted or emotionally malformed.
Because I guess it's not normal to joke about burying your dead mother in the back yard and bringing her out for special occasions right after you find out her shelf life is about to run out. It's not normal to refer to the last few months of your mothers earthly existence as shelf life. It's certainly not something you want to pass around online like an emo trading card.

As we go through the stages of this I'll be laying it out here. It's past time I use this blog-thingie as a sounding board. Just understand that I'm doing this for my own edification, to help dissect my thoughts and find justification, purpose, sense in the senseless.