No news is good news

This was and is my Dad's philosophy. He's going to be 94 in December, and apparently it has been good for him. Me? I am a worrier. I sit on the edge of my seat when things are going good. I await the dark cloud to dim my view when I am in full sunlight. I question reality, when is it going to rain? When will the earthquake hit? When will my cancer recurr? That's why I need Nettie. She's my therapist and worth every penny and then some. When I begin my session with her and claim everything is going ok, she must brace herself because I hardly ever really feel ok and yet I am the comedian. That must be my saving grace. My sense of humor. My friends know how I cover my feelings with a happy face, jokingly talk about cancer as the crab grass of the world. But in the darkness of my inner thoughts I am scared. That's why I write, it fuels my soul and allows the bad thoughts to run around and get tuckered out. Then they nap, and I am free until the next time.