Cancer Breast Poop

About a month ago I had the pleasure of greeting a new doctor with my legs spread. i.e. This is the 5th doctor in my series of doctors since I graduated college that I've met for the first time on my annual pap visit. HELLO \_/!!!! That sad symbol looks nothing like my vagina. Oh, my bad, I meant to say vajayjay. What-ev. Well, during this visit I was a little stressed about the move, having fallen off the smoking wagon for a few weeks (I'm clean again for good), and just the current situation of our world in general. My doc found a lump. Great. The next day, when my mom was to be in town, she was able to go with me to the hospital to get a mammogram and ultrasound. Good fun! I have to tell you, I was pretty calm for what could await me in the viewing room. I've never sat in a room half nekked, waiting for what felt like an eternity for a stranger to tell me I could leave the room. That was awkward and somewhat alarming, but I just chalked it up to routine. I was given clear instructions that my doctor was the only one that could read the results to me. Turns out my doctor was on vacation. I didn't even bother. I waited until after the Labor Day holiday, but before I could question anything, I received a form letter that explained all is clear and that I should get a regular mammogram when I turn 40. Wow. A form letter? I take the good news. Last week, my mother informs me (after she repeatedly asks if I am sitting down) that my sister has breast cancer. Folks, it is the most amazing thing to be cleared of any health disasters, but it does a disservice to our health when our loved ones are touched with scary illnesses especially a highly ironic diagnosis. My sister has some serious treatment coming her way as it is an aggressive strain of breast cancer, but her doctor is of Johns Hopkins and with the advancement of technology these days, I feel she will have the best chance at recovery and lifelong remission. This is optimism. The level of stress in her life, again, I believe, directly results in this heinous infection in her body. Folks, smoke weed, don't marry the hot navy guy until you know he gives a shit about real things, and when you have kids teach them how not to be selfish, superficial, and how to pick up after themselves. It goes beyond that fo' sho', but in my near numb reaction to my own sister's predicament, I am reminded of just how vulnerable we are and for life to turn on us is just a shame.

I consider myself a veteran of cancer interactions: My Godmother died of lung cancer in 1989, my best friend died of cervical cancer at 25 in 2002, a once good friend had Hodgkins twice, a very dear friend had a lump removed from her breast, we're not sure what my mom's mother and/or sister lost their lives from (but we think it may have been Cancer), and let's not count how many of my friends' parents/family members that have and are dealing with cancer (if not the lasting effects of post treatment). Eat organic, breathe, and be grateful for the life you have right now, please.