I stick my hands under my armpits and then I smell them like this….
Ha! How I love Molly Shannon’s character Mary Katherine Gallagher!
Ya wanna know what cancer smells like kids?
It smells like fear, armpit and ass. Well the pit and ass may be me–It’s been days since I showered. No need to shave in the winter right ladies? Makeup is a moot point as anything applied to my face is instantly rinsed away with tears. And with this short hair who the fuck cares or knows if I’ve combed it today? A little dry shampoo goes a long way…..
Ya wanna know what cancer feels like kids? It feels like I’m going to puke.
That sick feeling has not left me since 11/19-when the biopsy was being performed. I feel those tumors weaving their menacing veins all while weighing my breast down. There is no telling what sort of evil has been done to the inside of my body. Fuck me. That’s a lot of time with my brain and boobs to think…..
Here I am 12 days away from Operation Tit Removal….How does one say goodbye to their #badboob? This I will to need research a bit more and report back to you guys.~~Rest assured folks, I will tell you all about it!
……Let alone recovery from breast removal–Currently there is an unfamiliar pain in my shoulder and neck….naturally emotional me thinks cancer has spread and I won’t be even be mobile by the evening~~not true~ I know it’s not attacked me that severely yet….I’m hoping anyway. There’s no telling the damage done already. Fucking cancer, goddammit.
Here I am walking around smelling like fucking Pigpen in my cancer funk leaving the lovely scent fear and bile in my wake…..
Every step that damned cancer boob throbs, seriously December 22nd can not get here soon enough. Fuck off cancer.
12 more days of trying to be normal. Cleaning the walls, the bathrooms, the closets, the corners in the house. Those corners that haven’t been touched since we accidentally spilled milk back there three years ago. I know people will be visiting and shit. I don’t want you guys to be scared off by the ginormous dust fuckers that’ll great you at the door.
12 more days of trying to be normal. Trying to smile and have fun with five. 12 more days of walking the dog. 12 more days of playing outside, laughing, smiling, making sweet memories so five can think back and hopefully have fond memories of this Christmas.
And if I can get my shit together, hopefully I’ll pull myself together long enough and take a fucking shower.