Chemo is delayed even further. Am I going to be admitted to the hospital or not? Magic Eight Ball anyone?
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(Can you tell I’m still getting used to wigs?)
Reflections on the day, friends past and present, feeling like a stuffed turkey.
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There are things that I won’t reveal publicly – ever. I won’t admit to my actual jean size. I won’t admit to my exact weight. It will be a cold day in hell when I publicly admit to my real age in newsprint. This breast cancer story is strictly my own. No animals were harmed in the making of this film.
Are a breast cancer patient’s tissue expanders a viable threat to national security? How far is too far?