What to say when no words are left

My blogging has been inept and infequent of late, though it's not because of any shortage of material. ("It's gold, Jerry. Pure gold!")
There was my birthday (drunken), my mom meeting my girlfriend (her first words to her were "Why, you're not fat!"), getting the bike back on the road (In the words of MIMS, "This is why I'm hot.") and plenty of other stuff.
Apart from chronicling my life for my friends and family who aren't around, this blog also serves as a form of self-help. A release, a form of emotional therapy.
Most of my thoughts these days centre around my mom, who, like many other parents before her, is battling with cancer. I've had friends who have gone through it before, some who haven't won their fights, and it had no lasting affect on me. Friends who have lost their moms or dads, I've tried to support them, but didn't really comprehend what they were going through.
I think I do now, and it's not a fraternity I am anxious to join.

I remember writing a story about an athlete who came back from cancer. I penned, quite elegantly, how "The Beast" had left its clawmarks upon him, in the form of surgical scars. But that didn't truly encompass the opponent we face.
It takes a toll in so many ways. Physically, emotionally, mentally, socially, financially ... they are the horsemen of the apocolypse.

Dealing with this has been, so far, easy. Because I haven't really been dealing with it. People remark how impressed they are with my "strength," but I have yet to face the reality my family and I are up against.

"I want to live."
When my mom said that, it hit me. She might die. What would that be like? How would that impact me? My family? How is she even handling that possibility? Up until that statement, I had ignored the possibility, dismissing this as an unfortunate situation - a mere inconvenience.

But this is LIFE. And maybe death.

And that scares the shit out of me.