I have been asked why I stopped writing. Well, I stopped because I was afraid of all the ugliness that it would be unearthed. And, it did. I sat down to write on the eve of my third anniversary of cancer life, and it hurt. So here I am still awake trying to get cancer out of my brain, literally. As I lay a awake in bed listening to the rest of the house breathing, I muffled my sobs. I thought, what has been the worst moment of this whole thing? Heck, there are a lot of candidates. But, the worst moment was the night I found out I had a metassis to my liver. My cell phone rang just as we were dressing to go to a family dinner at the Outback for my birthday. I went to the porch to talk. Just as I was hanging up the phone, my father-in-law pulled up in his 4 Runner. I decided that moment I wouldn't tell anyone tonight. But, he knew something wasn't right with me. So I told him and told him to keep it to himself tonight. Just then the family came out to get in the car. I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and smiled. I couldn't look at Larry as we sat there at a table for seven. I felt sick in my stomach as I blow out my candle on the complementary sundea and the thought crossed my mind that this maybe the lasT birthday I have. When the meal was over, my parents took the kids back to wash their hands. I took Scott outside and told him about the phone call. Why would I pick this to be the worst day? Well, that was the day stage two became stage four, in curable.