2:00 pm appointment.
1:40 pm, Mrs. and Mr. Sparks you may come back now.
Enter: Doctor’s and Nurse’s downcast eye upon us. trying best to discern how they will inform this husband & wife of 23 years…to the day…that she has she in fact developed breast cancer. Nonetheless, Treatable, Curable, Cancer.What. A Fucking. Beast, that has attacked my body & compromised my health.
Let’s be real: Doctors remove cancers thousands of times daily. Fact, it’s a normalcy for them. [I’ve always felt that compassion. I applaud you health care field workers everywhere. Really I do. I worked in the front office of an Elementary School and did my share to ensure students quality of life was never compromised due to their health conditions.]
This is where I love people, the spirit, and love in the finding the connection I know is there physically or virtually.
Let’s be realer, most women (lest not forget the men) only have a breast cancer removed once.
This fact is scary. As. Fuck.
A total mindfuck for my beauty/lack of words, depending upon the side of the fence you stand.
So 38 minutes later, Christopher and I are released, armed with our reading material that is to educate us on this fucking carcinoma that decided to present itself in my left boob…. and inform our support system in the lobby. Fucking reading material. How to deal with diagnosis on though recovery.
Hello Cancer. Fuck You.
#BadBoobAndShit
bad boob and shit 