Christmas is my favorite holiday; I celebrate the birth of Christ. This year, the beast was our guest for the holidays - I had chemotherapy on December 19th. I was very disappointed that I wasn't well enough to go to church for my favorite night of caroling; it takes a good seven days until the side effects subside. Christmas Eve, my boyfriend and I agreed we'd go to his family's party, for just an hour, but as the time neared, I became anxious - not feeling up to making small talk, lost in a large crowd. I stayed in my pajamas on the couch and he went for not one, but a couple of hours. I wish he had stayed home with me, huddled under a blanket, watching a seasonal movie by the fire. Maybe that's too Norman Rockwell. I was ill on Christmas Eve, and I didn't want to ask him to miss his yearly gathering, even though he sees his family regularly. Being sick is demeaning and isolating - I am not that girlfriend that asks my man to chose me over something that is important to him, but since my diagnosis, I am sad, because each time, he doesn't chose me.