I have cancer

Be Nice! I Have Cancer!

I Have Cancer

I elected to find a new doctor before we start this deal in earnest. I am hopeful the new doctor will appreciate my warped sense of humor. You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t play well in all settings. Really conservative uptight places and people dissolve all my filters and I’m apt to say something awkward just for sport. While no doubt entertaining, it is not always forward thinking. I’ve spent the span of my career as an attorney in corporate &/or large law firm environments. That is until I became unemployed a year ago.

Ta Ta For Now

I’m the person that actually says out loud what other people are thinking. Like the time I told my boss’ husband that the salmon he cooked was so delicious that I might touch myself. Okay, so maybe not everyone thinks like this. Or the time I said good night to a different boss, and yelled “TTFA” to him. He was fond of saying “TTFN” (Ta Ta For Now from Winnie the Pooh). I was distracted and said the wrong phrase so to cover for my mistake I followed it up with, “TTFA: Ta Ta Fat Ass”.

By the way, I don’t think I mentioned that mine is invasive ductal cancer. I got the biomarker results today. My receptors indicate I am estrogen positive, progesterone positive and HER2 negative. They tell me this is good. Waiting on genetic testing to see if I’m inclined towards cervical cancer. Speaking of drugs (were we talking about drugs?), a friend of mine from Austin opined whether there would be any opportunity to score some medical marijuana. That would be awesome if I liked to get high. Still searching for those silver linings. I go in for a PET (positron emission topography) test this week on account of some mysterious UBO (unidentified bright object). I just like saying that. “I’ve got some weird UBO ju-ju going on in my sternum”. It just sounds cool and alien. Also, another ultrasound.

Be Nice!

My mother went through all of this twenty years ago after my sister and I were grown. She had a mastectomy, chemo and radiation. It’s a slightly different scene when you have three elementary aged children in the mix, one of which has special needs. I was in the car today with my three children and they were all kicking each other and screaming because they were being kicked. I couldn’t believe the thought that germinated in my head. It blossomed without fertilizer. “Stop acting like arseholes! I have cancer!”  I did NOT say this out loud, thankfully. I hated it when my mother’s weapon of choice was guilt. I swore I would never keep that one in my parental arsenal. Glad the filters engage some of the time.
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