To Google or Not to Google

This morning, we had our family photo shoot with a good friend of mine. It was loads of fun! Matthew needed some time warming up, but in the end he was all smiles. I did not know how difficult it was to coordinate outfits for photos. Last week, we went to Old Navy and bought something new for everyone to wear. We tried on the clothes last night and I just wasn't happy with it. At 10:30 pm, I came up with a new color scheme and started pulling clothes from every closet. Tony thought I was crazy to try on clothes so late in the night, but in the end, I was happier with the new choice. 

I took off my surgery tape, for lack of the right term. Incisions are healing nicely. Too bad they're going to be cut open again on Friday.

As Tony had blogged about earlier, we can't take Matthew to Legoland next week because I will still be recovering from my surgery. We're going to have a small celebration instead, with a few family, friends, and pizza delivery! 

Those of you that know me know that I google everything. I even read reviews on chapstick. Freaky, right? Since my diagnosis, I've been so scared to research anything about breast cancer. I was afraid I'd accidentally pull up sad and depressing stories. I mean, why do that to yourself, right? However, I have been slowly looking up medical terms that I don't understand in my pathology reports. 

Tonight, I googled "how to explain hair loss from chemotherapy to children." Bad idea. I read some really sad stories and got emotional.

Plan B: I went on Amazon to look up children friendly books about cancer. Another bad idea. Read great reviews, but again, I got emotional. Reality hit. I....have....cancer. Sooner or later, I have to tell my kids. Tony thinks they're not ready to know that their mom has cancer. He doesn't think they're old enough to understand. 

Here's my reasoning: I can't keep telling them that I have to visit the doctor, yet again, because I'm "sick." I can't keep telling them that I'm not feeling well, so grandma has to help watch them. I can't keep telling them that they can't be near my left side because they might hurt me. Not without an explanation, at least. So I ordered two books. They're called "Butterfly Kisses and Wishes on Wings" and "Nowhere hair." I know it sounds vain, but the thing that is bothering me so much is how to explain the hair loss to them. Any creative ideas?

What does a cancerous tumor look like? Tony thinks it's black.

Chinh