I'm six days into a diagnosis of Stage IV breast cancer. There's no Stage V. I don't know if I should even buy green bananas. I can't look at a calendar, and the birthday cards on my piano make me ill but I'm afraid to put them away. The thought of Christmas makes my blood run cold. If I'm not 100% perky and happy, CN hovers behind me and asks me how to run reports that she thinks I'm won't be able to run for very long.
I don't have a complete diagnosis. I don't know what my treatments will be like, or if I'll respond to them. My stomach aches and I wake up fifteen minutes earlier every day. I've had conversations with Eric that are haunting and horrible, and while I know that death and dying are universal experiences, I'm six days into a diagnosis of Stage IV breast cancer, and sometimes it feels too big.
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