Riding the Beast... Current mood: bitchy
Let's say your 34 years old, reading a book and decide to do a BSE (because you can't remember if you did one that month and while reading seems a good a time as any)...
What's the worst that can happen? Well, damned if you don't find a "lump", which turns out to be early stage breast cancer. Damn, that's a bummer way to start off a blog, eh?
If you are young (under 35, to be exact), they are pretty much going to advise you to do it all--slash, poison and burn. So, if you have the balls (or nips in this case), you go for it all. Slash is lumpectomy, poison is chemo (the beast) and burn is radiation. Two down, one to go.
It sucks ass, but you get to see 1, what you look like with no hair, and 2, what you look like with a faux-hawk. Bonus! Chemo is totally not for p*&&$s, but you do it and get on with life. Ten days of hell for ten years doesn't seem like a bad deal to me. However, you get to the point where you realize that you are actually letting someone poison you, with your permission no less.
If I'm feeling freaky this week, I'll post a scar photo--it's absolutely gorgeous.
So, here's the deal on cancer--someone has to get it. I have never asked "why me?", although I will admit I have asked, "why not someone else?". I am so going to hell. I think it's okay to wish it on someone else, not anyone specific of course. It's only natural to want SOME WAY to get out of it. You bargain, you plead, you beg. It doesn't just go away...
Ride the chemo beast if you have to, it probably won't kill you AND it will make you stronger.
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