My phone is not smart at all, in fact, it’s the dumbest thing on earth. It doesn’t even have a camera!
You see, I don’t think I will ever understand those who prefer to look at a gadget instead of at the person whom they’re with. Which is why I like that sentence in that song from the Rolling Stones that says that if you can’t be with the one you love, you love the one you’re with.
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer I knew I had to tell my employer but… just how do you tell your employer you’ve cancer??
Well, I found myself saying that I was sorry. Sorry for what? I’ll never know, but that’s how it started.
– I’m sorry I’ve to tell you this, but I’ve cancer. But don’t worry – I said as I saw an OMG face – I’m as strong as a bull and the doctor says I couldn’t be healthier… aside from this little glitch this body has, of course. And I’m not planning on letting this get me down. I’ve viking blood, for crying out loud!
He smiled, sat back and nearly laughed.
Well, one of the things I did absolutely not like about chemo was losing my hair. All of it and all over the place, but the one that is there for everyone to see, face and head, was not fun losing at all. I felt looked like an alien and it didn’t matter how much everyone told me I looked good, I have eyes… I knew what I looked like. Odd, to say the least.
As you probably read on another post, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and the first opinion I got was that I was pretty much going to die in a matter of months if I didn’t undergo surgery pronto. Scary tactics I guess.
It was a long name with a HER2 in it that I couldn’t have cared less about. Why bother memorizing a name when the important thing here is what you’ll do about it?! Continue reading
When I was a teenager I weighed 95 pounds and wore a 34C and got to be a D at some point. That was huge for such a skinny girl! I hated that not one single person on this planet would look me in the eye when talking to me as, apparently, they were the first thing anyone saw. And I don’t care if I’m not politically correct here, but I’ll just say it: men think that big boobs stand for “get me in bed now!”.
By the time I was 40 I weighed 119 pounds and my boobs sort of shrunk to a more “normal” size of 34B, yet the thought of them being big was still there so I had been using sports bras for over 10 years to be able to walk fast without them moving like they had a life of their own and wear blouses without the boob-button opening up.
I got the red chemo first. The scary chemo. The strong one as I was told.
I didn’t get rid of them all, but I did ‘delete’ them to the point of almost feeling great. And just in case my mind didn’t prove to be strong enough, my husband filled the fridge with easy to swallow and digest foods like yoghurt, fruit and juices. He bought what we had learned were good for nausea and diarrhea. Then he prepared rice, stew and bone broth.
So there, we were all set and ready for whatever came my way.
The first 24 hours were as if I had not gotten any chemo at all. I felt ‘normal’. Continue reading
After the whole breast cancer diagnosis, I gradually understood that I didn’t need to teach /prove /demonstrate anything to anyone. Understanding and/or learning it myself had to be enough. And it has.
This was a tough one, but the lesson learned with this glitch we call cancer is that this body is just the transportation that allows me to vibrate in a universe of energy, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to interact because… I’d be invisible. Yes, the body I inhabit was diagnosed with breast cancer, but I wasn’t! My spirit didn’t have cancer. I’m energy so I will never be sick, nor die. Continue reading