Irony

I have cancer. Big, fat, donkey fucking cancer.

Yep. Finding out you have cancer during breast cancer awareness month (not to mention a few days before your birthday) is a total goddamned pain in the ass. Turn any which way and it's all about cancer. Cancer for dinner, cancer for lunch. Cancer coming out my ass. Actually, it's coming out my tits but that's neither here nor there. I've had this shit for TWO years before I knew about it. All I knew is that I was always exhausted. I thought that's just what happens when people get older. Alas, not so much. It's what happens when your jiggly bits go mitotic. So if posts are even more sporadic than usual (which, let's be honest, I'm not a constantly posting motherfucker, motherfucker)it's because I'm trying to stay alive.

I've given a lot of thought about what kind of Cancer Chick I'm going to be. First off, NO wigs. Once the hair starts to go, I'm shaving my head and tattooing it. I thought my head shaving days were long gone. Shaving your head in my twenties and during the nineties is...well, not that unusual. In my 40s...it's just kinda lame. Unless you have cancer, in which case, it's mandatory. So I'll be head-shaved, tattoo Cancer Chick for now. I'll keep everyone updated on any further ancillary Cancer Chick fauna that I attach.

I can't help but make a lot of jokes about it because it's so surreal for now. But I don't want to be "funny" Cancer Chick because she's always the one who dies first in those Lifetime movies. I'm gonna be sardonic for now. Again, updates as things evolve/progress.

P.S. Yes, this does suck.