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.
On the precipice of my fifth year of living with, not dying from metastatic cancer, I regard my life as a lucky one. No crazed busses have hit me, no falling airplane debris bonked me on the head, no Acme holes swallowed me up (a la Wile E. Coyote trying to capture the turbocharged Road
If someone handed you a clipboard with a survey attached regarding your “wellness” today, how would you respond?