I find myself separating myself from the word cancer. It doesn’t help that I don’t feel sick at all other than my post-covid lungs. I keep making myself say that I have cancer so that my brain takes it in. One week from today I’ll have had the surgery already. I guess it’ll be real then? The process is multi-day. 1st, I go for an MRI tomorrow to make sure they haven’t missed anything. This sounds like a ridiculous process-me laying face down with my boobs in coils. I wish there was a way to make it more ridiculous, but I can’t think of anyway to top that. 2nd I go for a covid test, then I can stay and get other intake stuff done. 3rd is the surgery and 4th is the follow up oncology appointment.
After that, I am getting a new tattoo. These are the rules, and I just follow them.
I’ve had a lot of opportunities over the last 5 years to re-evaluate my life and think about how I want the rest of it to look. You’d think I would no longer feel the need to do this, but I can always come up with something. I don’t know yet if changes will happen; probably not, but I know for sure that I want to fill my life with even more love and joy than I was already experiencing. I think I can cram a lot of love and joy into this last 20 years or so.
Be prepared to be love-bombed, friends.
sallyism 