I’m so grateful for anyone who reads this. For anyone who clicks on the link I’ve sent around, and bothers to read what’s going on in my mind, I thank you. I’ve always been a voyeur, and I like that about you. It gives me a boost of confidence, knowing that you want to hear what I have to say. Makes me feel less alone, more understood. Perhaps we’re only acquaintances, but you’ve followed my story throughout breast cancer, and your interest is piqued. Will she write something else this week? Will she fall off the blogging truck again? What’s this blog about, if she beat cancer?

Cancer changed me, and my perspective. Everything around me seemed to be in sharp focus that has since softened into a strong sense of purpose. I’ve said before: my tolerance for bullshit was hit as hard by the chemo as my cancer was. My bullshit meter is as close to zero as it could be; it’s why I quit corporate to spend time with my kids. I have an easy time saying no, and my filter has become non-existent (which also doesn’t jive with corporate). I have no problem talking about my work of art and science boobs. If you asked, I just might show them to you, they’re so cool. I’m an HR nightmare.

I have a renewed belief in science and better living through chemistry, and am alive thanks to drugs that literally burned my insides. Why yes, I will take those anti-depressants you put me on after I was diagnosed, as well as the hormones I was prescribed after you took my ovaries at 40. All of those things help me from being a raging bitch, and well… a “normal” 40 year old wife, mother of two, cancer survivor and aspiring writer. Oh god! I’m crying I’m laughing so hard right now. That’s me, normal after cancer.

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