Most of the morning was spent lazing about and feeling sorry for myself.
After I figuratively slapped myself in the face and forced myself to get a grip and stop being such a saddo, I went to go meet my sister for coffee (but I forgot a tape measure).
My sister and I had a long, deep talk about life, love, and everything else inbetween. The whole time I was talking to her, the proverbial gears were turning and all of a sudden, I felt super guilty for keeping any sort of secret from her because she was so completely honest with me.
So, I told her I was sick. She didn't believe me at first but then I rolled up my sleeves and showed her the bruises from my treatment/lab draws/emergency infusions/etc. She took a deep breath and asked if I had told mom and dad. I told her no, so she naturally urged me to tell them. However, she did understand where I was coming from and promised that she wouldn't do it for me.
Buuuuut, she made me feel bad enough that I came home and immediately told papa. I was surprised with the way he reacted; He wasn't angry or upset at all. He asked how many more treatments I have to endure, so I told him it should only be a couple more weeks. At that point, I pretty much begged him not to keep me from moving onto campus this Sunday, to which he responded that he wouldn't ("of course not"), but requested that he go with me tomorrow for my treatment. I obliged, which means that now I won't get any studying done but I suppose it could be a lot worse. He's going to tell my mom and keep all of her concerns at bay for me.
I'm sure I have more to update about but my computer is acting up right now, so I'll reboot and try again later.
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