Bing bong bing bong bong bong bing bong (Big Ben chimes doorbell) Me: who is it? Depression: oh an old friend! Me: [excited because I’ve been isolated for seven months, opens door expectantly] Oh, no. It’s you. How did you get our new address? Depression: I can find you anywhere at any time in anyplace
According to new research published by Race for Life today, nearly half (47%) of people diagnosed with cancer said they found it hard to ask for help. — Read on http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/about-us/cancer-news/press-release/2019-05-06-almost-half-of-people-diagnosed-with-cancer-find-it-hard-to-ask-for-help-as-many-fear-being-pitied
My fourth cancerversary was Monday, but I didn’t marry the cancer. Cancer does it’s best to have death come to our wedding and walk me down the aisle by separating me from Craig because of drug resistant depression, and I do not believe in polyamory or open marriages. Even with a 25% chance of living five years past a metastatic breast cancer diagnosis I think I might have a great chance of making it. Hope is a strategy.