I'm a speed blogger and a poor & reluctant writer. I blog often and I say the same things, over & over. My three readers know what I have to say:
I love Eric, I have cancer, and (for the month of October, anyway) I hate pink.
How's that for a nutshell?
Eric will occasionally learn something from reading my blog. Eric knows me very, very, well. In fact, I used to be surprised by what Eric knew about me. He's not the sort of person who runs around shouting "aha!" and flipping the lights on. He's a smart person who doesn't hide his light under a bushel, but he doesn't expose people. He never exposed me. He just... knew.
But that's another story!
Eric knows me very well, and he knows when I feel sick. But Eric doesn't always know the way in which I feel sick, because I don't often discuss the specifics. It doesn't make me feel better to talk about it.
I'm much more likely to mention a symptom or complaint here than in the fleshy world. If I have earned a reputation for grousing I think it's most deserved in the blogosphere.
(I love Eric. I have cancer. Pink.)
But tonight I have something new to say: I wish I had a friend who had advanced breast cancer.
That sounds really bad. This is why I need to limit what I say...
Obviously I'm not wishing cancer on a friend. Never, never. Wouldn't wish it on an enemy, either... and I'm not sure I have any enemies that aren't the color of bubble gum and tied in perky little bows.
And I certainly know a gazillion women with breast cancer. I used to know about a gazillion-fifteen, but they died.
But I was just sitting here thinking how nice it would be to have a friend in the world who could really truly know what this experience is like! It makes me want to cry to think about it. There's something so lonely about this.
I'm not alone. I know. I know, I know. I have my wonderful husband, my wonderful friends... and then a whole, wide, world of acquaintances and support among women with breast cancer. But the truth is that having breast cancer isn't a heck of a lot to have in common with someone. It's just a circumstance. A bad one. But if there was someone who really got it and really got me...
Strange thoughts for a Wednesday night.
4 comments:
I had no idea of the number of pink ribbon products out there. I was supposed to present my research in San Diego this week, which is "patially supported by a grant from the Susan G. Koman...", but there were too many fires and I didnt go. They didnt cancell the conference though--no fires are gonna stop some socially challenged scientists from getting together to be self-congratulatory in the midst of disaster. The boys and I are confined to quarters with all the windows shut. There is a little ash snowflake thing happening outside, but only breathing is a problem. Im just writing to say I love you and miss you and I hate pink too. I wish we were doing something together this weekend. Love you both, Sandy
I love you & Eric. I hate, no, loathe cancer. I hate pink.
It's nice to read you, Sandy! I've been thinking about you... wondering if you were feeling any effects from the fire(s). I'm glad that the only problem is breathing. :)
I wish we were doing something this weekend, too! And the weekend after next!
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