There’s no cancer Mecca where everyone faces east at a specific time of day to pray. If your words are true, come sit with me and share your prayers. Else, please don’t say you pray as a good way to design an end to a conversation you’d rather not have. If I can handle nearly every night in the hospital since thanksgiving except for this last week, it’s okay not to pray or say you even think about it, but maybe you do. So, my heart says, “leave it alone and don’t look a gift rabbi in the mouth.” But I can’t.
Tag: Breast cancer
This is what metastatic breast cancer looks like. Not on the days when I am trying to make everyone believe I’m okay. It’s not that I mind looking like I don’t have cancer for the most part. But I don’t put my makeup on every day to prove a thing to anyone but myself. I push too hard most days. Never will I learn to take it easy.
Exhausted by breath excused for the whispers “How does she do it? What does it look like?” Talk of cures and tinctures and dragons tails.