a little c

because I refuse to give it a big one

Hit it again

Posted by wendy on 2011/10/22

When I signed into my dashboard today this was in my top searches box:


Personally, my favorite link on that search result is the Aqua Teen Hunger Force movie script.   There is a small part of me that thinks someone would probably benefit more from that link than if they hit my blog looking for answers.  Really, I have none.  Lately, it feels like all of the answers are out of my reach as well.

So many of my photoshoots end up with Pip The Therapy Dog crashing the party--no zombie bride pictures today, because Pippin wants to sit in my lap. 😉

I’m all over the internet this month, taking pictures  and playing  silly Facebook  games and pinning pithy sayings to my pinterest page…but, am I talking about cancer this month? Not so much.    As someone who made it through 8 rounds of chemotherapy without tossing her cookies once, how much of a right do I have to even complain about my experiences?  Sure, I felt like crap and I lost my hair, but it’s grown back and I had a full head of it less than 3 months after chemo ended.  The surgery was hard, but I recovered and I actually like my teeny little breasts more–clothes fit better, they don’t get in the way of daily activities, and they look fabulous in a tight sweater.  I had all the lymph nodes removed on my right side, but I regained full range of motion with my right arm and while the numbness is annoying, I’m used to it so it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to.  I lift weights.  I do yoga.  I was a text-book case of breezing through surgery, chemo and radiation with minimal difficulty.  Did I have cancer-lite?  No.  It was aggressive.  I had multi-focal DCIS and a big freaking tumor on my right breast.  It had spread to 1 lymph node–but, again…I was lucky–we caught it before it spread further.  So many women had it–HAVE IT–so much worse than I did.  I feel guilty because I feel like I really did get the pretty end of the shitstick.  I mean, any way you look at it, it’s still a shitstick, but I got the end that cleans up faster.

Lately, I don’t even like to talk about how lucky I was–it’s like I’m afraid I’ll jinx it somehow.  And…as someone who has both been there, done that, and purchased the pink t-shirt, how much of a responsibility do I now carry to continue the fight to raise awareness?  As a survivor, do I offer hope or do I offer reality?   Can we have both?  I can see how women with metastatic breast cancer can feel left out of all of these pink rays of hope we’re shooting around the world this month–because, the happy hopeful survivor place?  That’s the place I’d much rather dwell, too–and that feels like such a cowardly thing for me to say, but if I’m going to be honest here, then…yeah.  I don’t want to think about this coming back and I don’t want to think about it spreading.  Maybe it’s too soon for me to face the ‘what ifs’.  Right now,  I want to focus on the fact that I WON this round.  But, I was lucky.  So many women are not.  What will I do if my luck runs out and I’m faced with that brick wall once more?

Aqua Teen Hunger Force says “hit it again”.   And, I will.  But, I’m not going to think about that today.  Maybe I will tomorrow.



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Relief and Gratitude and a House Guest

Posted by wendy on 2011/10/09

I have a mouse.  He is freaking adorable, but he is not allowed to live in my house so the game of Catch or Kill is on.  I prefer “catch”, but if I have to resort to “kill”, I’ll do it, because mice aren’t very good house guests at all.  They use your good towels on their muddy feet, don’t put the little wrappy thing back on the bread, and put empty cartons back in the fridge.  I’m pretty ruthless about empty milk cartons.

I’ve spent the last week in a kind of frenzy of gratitude and excitement and fear.  The fabulous people who particpated in the boobiethon netted me $2,555.  You know,  the ‘thon has taken its fair share of flack over the years, because Komen was the main recipient (and for the boobies)–but, in case anyone ever tries to criticize them because the women who need it don’t benefit–send them to ME.  Send them here:   I am a breast cancer survivor and the Boobie-thon has just paid for the next 4+ months of my COBRA.  I don’t have the proper words to say how much this has meant to me.   I’ve tried thanking everyone who donated to me (I think I thanked a few of you twice–haha) and it feels like it was just this litany of “thank you, I’m overwhelmed, and OH MY GOSH!”.  hahaha.  If I babbled to you, I apologize.  I really was completely overwhelmed.  Thank you Mel for doing such a fantastic job as the organizer, and thank you Statia, for nominating me.  I love you guys so much.   I’d be remiss not to mention that Pete’s image  went up to $350, and my very good friend Jason is also auctioning off a shot for me (it ends Tuesday).  I have such amazing friends.  I really do.

Don't freak out--I was stopped at a red light when I snapped this.

There is a sense of relief that this little bit of attention is kind of over for me now, though.  I have to admit–I felt like HIDING a lot last week.  I have no idea how I suddenly became The Shy Girl, but oh maaan—I just felt so completely undeserving of all of the kindness directed my way.  I couldn’t look at my stats, because I’m so used to the 20 or so people who read this and when there’s suddenly 700 views on your blog…it’s scary to feel so opened up and vulnerable.  I’m not used to it.  🙂  Overwhelmed.

Physically, I’m doing really well.  The hot flashes haven’t gone away completely–but, they have subsided.   I think I had one yesterday.  Hurrah for Effexor!   My hair–much to my chagrin–is very curly.   DO NOT WANT.   Seriously, I actually had a moment yesterday in which I missed my wigs desperately.  I feel terribly ungrateful for disliking my hair, because–helloooo, at least I have hair, right?   WHINGING!  I should stop that.  I’m just super lazy and hate fixing my hair every day.  Seriously I do not get how short hair is easier.  Ponytails are easy.  Massive amounts of hair gel are not.

What a difference a week can make!!!  For reals, people–my biggest complaint about my life right at this second is that I have to fix my hair.  I’m going to stop and just enjoy that for a minute or two.

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The Tale of the Phantom Port

Posted by wendy on 2011/10/06

I noticed yesterday in the shower that I was still very carefully washing my neck and upper chest, so as not to touch the (skeeevy) chemo port that is no longer there.  Old habits die hard, don’t they?

It’s still a shock to me when I look at pictures of myself now and there isn’t a hard little round disc sticking out of my chest and I still occasionally feel a bit of a phantom pull in my throat where the port met my jugular vein.  I expect this will all fade eventually–I mean, I finally learned where my breasts are located on my body–for the longest time after my first surgery, I found myself trying to wash under breasts that were no longer there.  (Seriously.  It was super annoying.)  It stands to reason I’ll figure out my neck is OKAY TO TOUCH AGAIN eventually.

Why yes, I did make myself a shirt. Iron-on transfers, ftw!

Right now, the only real obstacle I face in the shower is shaving my right armpit–because the underside of my arm is numb (and will remain so–this is something that won’t go away since they removed all my lymph nodes on that side) and I haven’t gotten around to getting an electric razor yet, so cutting myself without realizing it remains a possibility.  I never realized how much one shaves just by feel.  The pressure of the razor against your skin is how you tell you’re doing it right and I can’t feel that anymore.  Frustrating, but not end-of-the-world stuff, so I can deal.

I’ve been pretty lucky so far with my arm.  Working out doesn’t bother it (I’m being very careful not to overdo it, as I know it’s a bit risky–but, I think the benefits outweigh the risks.  It cannot do me anything but good to build up the muscle in my arms.) and I’m hopeless when it comes to remembering not to carry my purse on my right shoulder, but it hasn’t affected anything.   I haven’t had to deal with any swelling or other signs of Lymphedema yet.  I have full range of motion with the arm as well.   Dr. Awesome (my surgeon) was unsurprised at my progress.  “You’re young, you’re healthy, there’s no reason you shouldn’t do well.”.

I’m going to just take a moment and enjoy those  words.  Cause I really love it when my doctors talk about how ‘young’ I am.

Tomorrow is the very last day of the Boobie-thon, and I am just completely overwhelmed with gratitude over how generous people have been.  I’ve talked about ‘moments of grace‘ here before, and I want you all to know I’ve had more of those moments this week than I can count.  I feel like I keep repeating myself over and over, but it’s all I know to say or do.  Thank you.  Thank you.  ❤  One day, I’ll pay all of this forward.

This is the very last Boobie-thon ever, which is such a bittersweet thing to all of the women who’ve been involved over the years–but I think especially to Robyn, the founder, and Mel, who took over organizing the thon for Robyn a few years back, and I’m sure for my Hot Internet Wife, Statia, who was the reason the whole thing began.   These women have worked tirelessly for a cause they really believe in and I think they’re amazing.  There are a few really fun contests (win a Kindle Fire or a $30 Amazon card!)  running over there right now, and you still have time to enter, so head over if you like.  Now, shoo!

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Hey, those fancy movin’ pictures are nifty!

Posted by wendy on 2011/10/04

Seriously, I should have prepared something instead of trying to wing it.  It’s never pretty when I try to wing it.  🙂  But, hey, that’s me up there, being my usual awkward self, trying to thank people and rambling on about hats and hair instead.  I am blessed with the best friends in the world, the best family in the world–and hey–I am also bless with meeting the best total strangers in the world.  If you’re reading this now, just feel free to assume that YOU are awesome and move forward with your life secure in that knowledge.

It’s Day 4 of the Boobiethon and they’re going strong over there–there’s a tweeting contest happening right now that you should totally try to win, and of course, they need both boys and girls to donate pictures.  My dear friend Pete is auctioning off one of his gorgeous pictures for me, and I am beyond overwhelmed by all of this.  I feel like I keep repeating the same thing over and over–thank you, thank you.  But, it is sincere and it is from the bottom of my heart.  Thank you.  Thank you to everyone who’s donated, thank you to everyone who’s passed my site along.  I feel so completely undeserving of such amazing support, and I look forward to the day that I can pay it forward.

I am so lucky.  I am.  I can never say it enough.  Thank you.

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Change is inevitable. And scary. But good.

Posted by wendy on 2011/10/02

Our lives can spin out of control so quickly–and when you’re first diagnosed with cancer, the whirlwind you find yourself in does not seem to stop–ever.  I told a friend today it’s like busting through a series of brick walls.  You get through one, and there is another one standing directly in your path.  It’s the nature of it.  I’ve got this…idea of a quote I’ve read somewhere about tempering steel–and I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen a blacksmith banging a sword against the wall in order to make it sharper, so maybe I’m mixing up analogies.  Hang on, while I hit google,  will you?  Go get something to drink–or, if you like, go on and hit the link to the Boobiethon and peruse around for a few minutes, and I’ll meet you back here in 2 minutes!  Okay, I’m back and I found it!

The fire of adversity will melt you like butter, or temper you like steel. The choice is yours.

YAY!  I really like that quote.  Of course, in the time that I ran around google to find that quote, I also found more really cool clown make-up ideas, a recap of last Thursday’s Project Runway, and a dreamy picture that my friend Emily posted on my wall of Dylan Moran and I kind of lost the thread of this  post.  I am easily distracted by shiny things.

Now and Then

THREADS!  Yes, I know where I was going with this.  I fought so hard against the idea that cancer would change me.  I liked me!  I didn’t want me to change, to be different–I didn’t want to lose my breasts, I didn’t want to lose my hair, I didn’t want to be anything other than the girl I saw in the mirror in November of 2010.  The thing is…we all change.  I mean, that’s what life IS.  Things happen to all of us, good and bad, and we hit the brick wall or get tossed into the fire and then we come out..different.  So, maybe the ‘change’ bit is out of our control–but we can control the outcome.  Having breast cancer changed me–I mean, literally–helloooo to the Now and Then next to this paragraph.

So..yeah.  I’m different.  And, I fought so hard against it, but once I decided to accept the reality of what had happened to me, suddenly….I was okay with the changes–physical and mental.  I’m stronger and wiser and there are days that I am steel and fire and seriously, brick walls need to STEP OFF.  um…lest I give the impression of being a Super Hero here , there are also days that getting out of bed and getting dressed to leave the house feels like an insurmountable task.  But, even the ‘bad’ days and moments are tinged with this sense of being grateful to be here to experience the highs and lows of being alive.

My Aunt Puppy told me I ‘have a glow’ about me now.   I told her it was the hot flashes.  😉

It’s Day 2 of the Boobiethon, and as I mentioned, I am the Bloggers Helping Bloggers recipient this year, and I am overwhelmed and completely out of ways to show how grateful I am to everyone who has donated this year.  I have alternated between fits of weeping and elation and introspection and I feel so humbled by the outpouring of help that’s been thrown my way.  I had $2.82 in my bank account on Friday–we were drowning and you guys have thrown us a lifeline.  So, thank you.  Thank you from me, thank you from my son, thank you from Pip and thank you from Emma.

Here I am again.  Grateful to be alive to experience something beyond any expectations that I had.

Thank you so much for that.

Thank you.

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grace and a lot of luck

Posted by wendy on 2011/10/01

It’s my birthday and seriously, as birthdays go?  This one has pretty much beaten them all in terms of getting off to a stellar start.    I’ve mentioned today to a few people that I’m running out of words and the ability to really articulate how overwhelmed and grateful I feel today and I’m starting to regret that I didn’t work on a birthday post over the last week so that I could at least write with a fairly clear head.  Instead, you’re going to get what may or may not amount to a great deal of disjointed rambling with about a million “thanks yous” thrown in for good measure.

The old ones tried to kill me. I hope these two will play nice.

The 10th Annual Boobiethon kicks off today, and they’ve chosen me to be the Bloggers Helping Bloggers charity recipient.  I’m…oy.  I mean, most of you guys know my history already, and I’m all weepy over this today.  If you’ve come here from the Boobiethon page, thank you.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you.  And, here is the thing–whether you choose to donate to Komen or if you’ve chosen to toss a few bucks my way, just the fact that you’re here and you’re reading this makes me feel..see, here is where I run out of words.  Every time.  I am humbled and honored and so happy and grateful to have such an amazing support system.  My cup is just running over today.

I’ve said it before–my friends, my family, they are where I get my strength.  I have been so lucky this past year–okay, getting cancer and getting laid off were not exactly Kodak moments for me (ha!)…but, how can I feel bitter when so many good things have also come my way?  I’m alive.  I lived through it all and when I fell down, I had someone there to pick me up and I want to thank my friends and my family and my son and my amazing boyfriend and Pip the Therapy Dog and Emma the Spazzy German Shepherd and the people who’ve donated to my paypal account or friends who bought prints and friends who said they knew I needed help and wanted to give it, the women who knitted me beautiful hats to wear when I didn’t have any hair on my head, and the Flickr friends who chipped in and sent me an awesome digital frame full of dorky pictures just to make me laugh, and the Thursday People at the Cancer Clinic, for making chemo feel more like a Coffee Klatch than a treatment center, the survivors who’ve helped me realize that there is more to life than cancer and the fighters who’ve contacted me because something I wrote hit a nerve with them as well–and I definitely want to thank the doctors and surgeons who saw to both my emotional health as well as my physical health.  I lucked out, because the team I had behind me gave me every reason to believe that I’d sail through this.

Every single one of you have contributed to making me a better and stronger person.  Every one of you gives me something to look forward to when I wake up and I am so grateful for the moments of grace that you have given me.   Thank you.  Thank you.  I am having one of those moments of grace this morning and it is because of each one of you.

Thank you.

Now, on a VERY serious note–someone needs to get me some cake.  Because it’s nearly lunch and I have yet to see some chocolate around this house.  I would hate for lack of chocolate to ruin this state of grace I have going on.  :p

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Holy crap I have a lot to say today!!

Posted by wendy on 2011/09/29

In a way, I regret starting a blog here.  I don’t regret blogging again–I’d forgotten how much I enjoy it (once upon a time, Dear Frantic Googler, there was a girl named skits who wrote a blog called Gratuitous Sax and Senseless Violins and she was very, very happy).  My biggest issue is the name “a little c”.  Granted, I started this so I could discuss my (swashbuckling!) adventures with cancer, and I also realize that even though this particular jaunt is over, there is always the chance that a sequel will spring up (“a little c2: electric boogaloo!”) and I will spend the next 5 years taking tamoxifen every day and having yearly PET scans and mammograms and all the other little extra things you have to do once you’ve been diagnosed with cancer.  So, it’s not like  I’ll wind up with nothing to discuss around here, cancer-wise.


There is so much more to ME than breast cancer.  I feel like…if I allow cancer to overtake my online presence, if cancer is all I talk/blog/create about–then I may as well just rename this blog to THEHUGEGINORMOUSBIGCTHATSUCKEDAWAYEVERYTHINGIUSEDTOBE (dot wordpress dot com) because even if it didn’t kill me,  I’ve let cancer score the last point by allowing it to take over my life.  I swore to myself I wouldn’t let that happen.   But, my name has put me into a niche –“breast cancer blogger”.  Which…oh FINE.  Yes.  That’s what I am right now.


The internet version of me is just a snapshot. It's not the entire picture.

I’m also an artist.  I’m an explorer.  A shiftless dreamer.  A hopeless romantic.  A caffeine addict.  I like Boca burgers and dark chocolate and sushi. I believe in God, but if you send me an email full of animated doves and dancing roses telling me I need to resend it to everyone I know so they’ll know that I believe in God, I will delete it without blinking once.  I’m fiscally moderate, but socially?  I’m big bleeding heart liberal.  I voted for Reagan.  I also voted for Obama and will do so again because I think the GOP has, for lack of a better term, completely lost their shit over the last  few years.  I cringe every time I hear someone say that Fox News is ‘fair and balanced’.   I can’t discuss health care without getting super emotional because having cancer has ruined me financially and the idea that I have to choose between keeping my house insurance or keeping up my COBRA payments is abhorrent and I don’t think that’s a choice anyone should have to make.   I don’t own a soapbox, but I do keep a rental on standby just in case I need to climb up onto it.  I am a breast cancer survivor and I can’t seem to be as outraged by Komen as I kind of feel I need to be when I read other blogs.  Where is my outrage?  Maybe I spent it all on the healthcare debate.  Maybe it’s a slow burn and in a few years, I’ll explode with righteous anger.  I like horror movies.  I love books.   I hate Twilight.   I love photography.  (especially horror photography, much to the chagrin of my sister)  I like to cook and my specialty is carnitas.  I can be melodramatic and I can be the only calm one in the bunch.  I will hold your head when you vomit, because puke doesn’t bother me, but if you spit in front of me, I get queasy and you may have to hold MINE.  I only drive stick shifts.  Even when my hair was down to my waist, I wore wigs for fun.  I smell like chocolate.   I’m a mom, a sister, a daughter.  I’m a lover, not a fighter.   I’m a bitc….If I keep this up, it’ll turn into a Meredith Brooks song, so I’ll stop right here.

Wow.  I digressed from the whole “Maaaan, why did I name my blog ‘a little c’?” thing, didn’t I?  .

SO.  I could stay the all cancer channel here and start a new blog somewhere else, but I’m far too lazy to do that so I think I’m going to stick with this.  Sometimes, there will be talk of cancer, because that is something that has happened to me, and will continue to happen…but, there are lots of other c words I like.  Candy.  Caffeine.  Coke.  Chanel.  Coffee.  Chihuahuas.   Because, ultimately, this is the ME channel.  All me, all the time.  Wendy 24/7.

Stay tuned.

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Lock your doors and hide your children!!

Posted by wendy on 2011/09/27


I’m not going to hate on pink this October.  I know many women, many survivors and fighters dread October and I am so completely okay with anyone hating The Coming of the Pink, because I see the other side of the coin now.  I’ve had a foot in both worlds.

Please know, there are moments when I open my mailbox or try to buy a new spatula that I think I may cut some bitches over all the PINK in my life…but, I have to admit…the month of October, for all its merchandising and hype, is a really good opportunity to remind people to do self exams and schedule their mammograms.  I mean…how many of us found our lumps/were diagnosed around this time of year?  I don’t know any stats, but I’m willing to bet there are a great many women and men for whom October is The Month They Found Out.  I know it was for me.

That said, it’s once again time for the Boobiethon.  Why am I enraged  by one form of titillation, yet completely okay with another?  Oh, Dear Frantic Googler, I’m glad you asked.  I am a complex woman.  Full of mystery.  And caffeine.  And occasionally bacon.  My thoughts on the Boobiethon.  Let me show you them.

I know the history of it (which is a bit of an amusing story involving my Hot Internet Wife and very good friend, Statia).  I’ve known Mel for years and she is just awesome—because, I do have excellent taste in friends, if I do say so myself.  So, yeah–I know the women running it.  They’re awesome, they’re caring and smart.  They’ve raised nearly $75k  in the past 9 years and I hope this year turns out to be a record-breaker.

How is this different from those stupid bra memes I hate?  Because the bra memes are  coy and confusing and make no sense or reference to cancer at all.  The boobiethon talks about breast cancer.  Why are we here?  Breast. Cancer.  No one is coy about it. Men are involved, men are submitting shots–because men are affected, too.  Are men looking at the pay-per-boobie page?  Well, sure.  So are women.  Is it titillating?  Yeah, it is.  I have no issues with titillation if it reminds someone to get their mammogram scheduled.  Most of us love boobies.  I love them.  I loved mine—until they tried to kill me.  THEN I CUT THEM UP. (okay, okay–my SURGEON does the cutting)  Harrumph.  Murderous boobies get the knife in my house.

I know these women and I know that they are more than just their breasts, just as they know that I am more than just mine.

I know that “save the boobies!” tends to be the October battle cry.  But, I also know that it’s too late for so many of us to save our boobies and we had to concentrate on saving ourselves.  I would love to see ‘Save the Women’, but then that excludes men, so maybe we should concentrate on saving the people.

I would like that.

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Posted by wendy on 2011/09/26

I am actually working on a post right now, but nothing is flowing and coming out the way I want it to, and seriously, I need to get something up here to mark what was a pretty landmark event for me:  The port is out!  Out, I say!

I feel like I should be writing something poetic about this, but I can’t really form the words.  I know that my dance with cancer isn’t OVER, but this week it feels like I managed to score an extra point last Friday.  I need to find a small time capsule or heck–some sturdy Tupperware, because we will be having a burial at sea for my Frenemy, The Port.

So yeah–October is coming up, my cancerversary is coming up, my birthday is coming up, a new COBRA payment is coming up, the boobiethon is coming up—and I have a lot of feelings about stuff that I should be getting out (like lancing a boil), but for now, today….I’ll just be super happy that when I touch my neck, there’s no tubes or knobs poking back.  Life can be difficult, but it is mostly very good.

Oh yeah.

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There are Doors and then more Doors and in my world they are all PINK.

Posted by wendy on 2011/09/20


I’m hitting the one-year anniversary of finding my lump and I guess we could be all “oh wow, you found your lump in October Pinktober?  How ironic!”  The thing is, it’s not really all that ironic.  I wonder what the statistics are for women who found their lump/were diagnosed in October as compared to every other month?  I mean, as much as some of us dread all The Coming of the Pink, how many of us actually owe our lives to that reminder?  Oh, it’s October!!!  So, you make that appointment you’ve been putting off all year, get a mammogram, finally remember to check your breasts.   I have to admit, for the majority of my life, I never gave my breasts a second thought until the boobiethon came around.    If Pinktober serves as nothing but a once a year reminder, then…I’ll deal with the extra pink.  I like to think that the reminder will last longer than just 31 days,  but again…most of us do not look at the door marked “cancer” until we’re being shoved through it.

See…the cancer club, despite it’s incredibly expensive dues and accoutrements, is not actually one of those exclusive high-end clubs that everyone is constantly trying to join.   Most of us were completely unaware the door to this club was in front of us until cancer reached out with a pair of bony hands and shoved us through it.   So, you get through the first door, and then you see there are more doors–breast cancer, colon cancer, cervical cancer–so many doors, so many different cancers.  So, I got shoved through the pink door.  (Isn’t it funny how we’ve color-coded cancer so we can tell who has what immediately by the color of their ribbon?  Should we further differentiate with hue?  Good lord, we’d all have to carry around Pantone charts on our keyrings, wouldn’t we?)

So, I’m through the pink door, and I’m in…oh, the lounge area, I guess.  Because there’s more doors, you know?   Different treatments, different surgeries–different breast cancers.   I feel like no one really walks through any of these doors willingly–except the one marked “Survivor”.   It’s hard to get to, though.   The obstacle course to the door marked Survivor makes the Ninja Warrior course look like a cakewalk.

The thing is…once you get through that door, you realize that you’ve entered a world with more doors.  The big one–the one you want to avoid at all costs is the one marked “Recurrence”.   I eye that door on occasion.  My big goal is to live my life with that door on ‘ignore’, but occasionally, it looms up right beside me.   I expect it will come into view every time I have a mammogram or PET scan.  I won’t go through that door willingly, either–but, I do hope that if I get shoved into the Recurrence Lounge, that I can do it with the grace and humor that I’ve seen in other women.  I hope–but, I don’t know if I actually CAN.  I expect that it will be somewhat akin to what happened when I got shoved through the first door.  That was not so much a ‘shove’, as it was me being dragged, kicking and screaming like a two year old who lost her favorite toy to the other side.  heh.

I think I digressed a bit there, as I do.  Where was I?  Ah.  October.  And, it is once again time for my mammogram and this year, I get the added excitement of a biopsy on the cyst in my left breast.  The door marked ‘Recurrence’ is looming close by.   Cancer does not care that my birthday is in two weeks and cancer does not care that my bank account is empty and I cannot afford to get shoved through that door right now.   So, I’m going to suck it up and brace myself for whatever comes next.  My hope is port removal and chocolate cake on my birthday.

Hope for the best, expect the worst.  It’s all any of us can do in this situation, I think.

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