Monday was wretched. Yes, that's my favorite word for such a day. I found out that my dad's girlfriend has cancer. They've been together for nearly 20 years, so she's as much a part of my life as anyone he could have married (he's allergic to marriage; he found out when he married my mom) and she's a sweet wonderful person. The only reason I found out is that I went to get my car insurance fixed up (she's my agent) and she was wearing a wig like the one I wore when I was Velma for Halloween. So she told me (and said she wouldn't tell anyone but family) but that she's going to chemo 3 days every 10, and she came in on a chemo day to help me. I felt so bad. Dad says it's worse than she lets on, that the chemo is more to prolong life than to save it. I told him I wouldn't tell Mom, but when I left after dinner I called her crying and went over. That's what her brother died of about two months ago -- liver cancer. I was slightly hysterical when I went to my mom's, but she made me feel a little better. I didn't get home until after 12a.m. and was supposed to get up at 6 to go to work.
But, at 4 a.m. I was wracked with horrible pains and spent hours in the bathroom. I think I'm better now; I can't tell if it's a stomach flu or just stress of the situation -- my body reacts differently to stress I can't handle. I was breaking out in sweats and my legs were going numb as well as the sickness -- it was like a slightly lighter version of this day. I'm going to go in for the second half of work because I do feel better and I don't want to miss a full day in the last week of training before we take our test and get thrown out in the real world of adjusting. Hopefully I don't spend the time in the bathroom there.