An Open Letter to My Boyfriend, My Teeniest Tiniest Group of Closest Friends, and My Immediate FamilyI’m sorry I got cancer. We all knew it was going to happen at some point since I’ve been saying it for years, but I didn’t think it was going to happen now?!  I guess better to happen to the “this Jaime” than to have happened to the “that Jaime.”  God only knows how that cold, cynical bitch would have dealt… and could you imagine if I didn’t have Mike?  OMG.  We would be so drunk right now and even if you didn’t want to be drunk with me for 6 months, I would have made you.Can we all agree that if we were in a room with someone who has held us hostage from another planet and the Martian tells us we HAVE to pick someone who HAS to go through bullshit throat cancer with nasty treatment side effects that we would vote me in? Minus my Dad having to take the obligatory Dad bullet (and he would offer anyway), I think it would be me?  You know what, it doesn’t matter- I would have told you it was going to be me, given you my face and that would have been the end of it.  I think it’s this BOSSY, motherfucking attitude problem of mine that I’ve been perfecting through 36 years of life that everyone else (except for you) has told me to reel in from time to time that is going to keep me head strong enough to fight through the physical, mental and emotional pain.  I’m not saying that I’m stronger than any of you- you guys could do it. Obviously.  I’m just saying that I got this.  It’s ok.  I’m going to get through it and whatever is, WILL BE OK.  And Mom, I’m sorry (not sorry) I swear so much.I’m sorry if I pull away and feel more comfortable talking to practical strangers about this rather than with you. I’m not doing it intentionally.  I’m doing it because you know me so well and will see through the cancer pants and see the heart I’ve worn on my sleeve for you because I’ve let you into my really small world and I can’t let you see it right now because the cancer pants are so tight and they have to be until the end of January.  I’m doing it to keep the pants on, to keep the tears down best I can because I have to be strong, I have to fight, it’s a complete mind fuck if I’m not.  My mind has to be in this always.  And sometimes it’s hard to see your face react to my face.  I feel like I’m hurting you.  And I NEVER want to hurt you.  And I know you know that about me and I see you trying to calculate the best reaction for maybe what I would NEED to see or NEED to hear but the truth is that neither of us know anything because we weren’t expecting cancer.  We were just expecting Sam.  At least you guys get a wedding out of this!  We all love weddings!  It’s going to be small.  And tropical.  And you’re invited.  With your kids.  But we have to get a nanny or something because we (not you, Mom and Dad) are going to drink a lot.So let’s keep texting about normal stuff that’s going on with you (don’t withhold big or small stuff) and if you’re close, planning visits here and there… I should go outside more.  I always feel better after a walk, although you will have to force me(ish) and be the one to yell “KADA!” because my voice will be gone and Kada’s hearing is starting to go.  Neat combo.  I fucking love that dog.  If you want to come over and watch relentless hours of Chopped, anything BRAVO even shit like Don’t be Tardy, then you’re welcome.  I don’t feel like answering cancer questions all the time.  And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I won’t text you back if you say, “How are you?” It’s my new thing because I actually think about how I am and the answer is always going to be shit.  Keep sending me things that will make me (us) laugh.  Keep sending screen shots of hilarious social media posts.  Laughter is the best medicine and laughing at other people’s expense feels like the best bag of infusion uppers these days.  Catty to the outside reader, I know.  But you’re on the inside.  And maybe you’re a little confused as to why I’m even posting this on my blog because I AM such a private person.  The answer is simple- I really do want to inspire.  I always have.  I want to help people- you’ve known that part forever…  Think about that family I have at Cala’s.  That shit is dysfunctional and tight because relationships and people are what matter most in life.  We both know this and that’s why our relationship is so strong.Mike, I’m afraid of loving Sam too much. I’m afraid that if I don’t beat this, I’ll die from heartbreak over not seeing Sam grow up and being with you guys before the cancer actually takes me.  But I don’t want to teach Sam to withhold love.  When I first met you, I made fun of you for falling in love with me so quickly.  I remember it like it was yesterday (even though it was only 2 years ago).  You said, “When I love, I LOVE.”  And that was it.  And I’m crying now because it was so honest and real and I felt it then and I feel it now and I want Sam to be just like that.  I want Sam to love big.  Even if it means he gets his heart broken a million times.  It’s way better than being the Tin Man.I should feel better in February. The sores should go down, I should get energy back, an appetite, blah blah blah…  and in March, I’ll get retested for cancer.  You know when someone dies (sorry to use a death analogy) people always say it’s the 6 months after that are the hardest?  I think that’s sort of what it’s going to be like for me.  Right now we have this AMAZING community behind us.  There are fundraisers everywhere and THANK GOD.  I still have no words… But at some point, that will all fade and it will just be us again.  And that’s when I’m going to need to lean on you.  I think this is going to HIT ME LIKE A TON OF BRICKS.  Not that I haven’t been very present with my everyday situation.  But I want to burn the fuck out of that mask, my imaginary cancer pants and whatever else comes up in the next few months and I’m going to need you.  Not that you were going to go anywhere.  I mean, I have cancer.I LOVE YOU. Thank you for loving me.Jaime