OMIGOD my mammo was normal. Meanwhile my co-workers boyfriend had a mastectomy a month ago. My other co-worker’s sister is undergoing exploratory surgery on a mass in her shoulder, my parent’s next door neighbor’s 3 month old baby has a tumor on her brain stem, and my beloved partner’s best friend’s son is in Indiana being treated for testicular cancer by Lance Armstrong’s doctor.

Sigh, can you see why I’m having a bit of survivor’s guilt. Add to that this bizarre twist on menopause where my breasts are actually growing larger right now, not shrinking. It may have a little something to do with the extra weight I put on. Much needed weight. But still, it’s absurd. With a push up bra I have cleavage for the first time since 1991 when I nursed my daughter. I’m turning 50 in September. It almost feels like an embarrassment of riches.

I am so unbelievably relieved. I’d gone so far as top discussing with myself what my best options were for treatment. I reviewed the different types of mastectomies. Yes, call me crazy but I wore a cleavagey top to work today, just in case my cleavagey days were numbered. I’m a loon.

So off to the weekend I go. I will be back Monday most likely, to blog you a second time.

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