In other news, the 24th was my mom's birthday. My grandmother died of cancer on my mom's birthday, and now my mom has cancer and it's her birthday. Weird. I got her this Wonder Woman mug:
It's probably a crappy gift, but what kind of gift do you give somebody with cancer that doesn't beg the question, "Remember how you have cancer?" This is really selfish of me, but I just couldn't go the ribbon route, even though she would have probably liked it. She likes that kind of symbolism.
I hate ribbons. I know in actuality they're just a means of showing support for people in a bad situation, and I respect that, and I don't begrudge all the ribbon lovers out there whatsoever, but in the reptile part of my brain I've always felt that ribbons are society's way of gift wrapping a piece of poop. You're in the military, you might get killed horribly, here's a ribbon. Hey, you have AIDS, that sucks, here's a ribbon. And then society goes home, and you're left with a piece of poop with a ribbon on it that now also smells like poop. I just think that as a collective we should have chosen something more manly and awesome to represent commitment to a cause. A gun, perhaps, or a bear. Not a teddy bear, an actual bear. If I get cancer I want a bear.
A bear:
My mom told me the best thing I could do for her is to take care of my boobs, except she used about a million more words, none of which were "boobs". Someone you love having cancer is really crappy news, so afterwards I was flinging out all kinds of psychological bait in hopes of reeling in some control over the uncontrollable. I wrote a preachy status update on Facebook and called the doctor to inquire about my boob health the next day. The doctor said in situations like mine, the best thing is to get genetic testing done to see if you have the boob cancer gene. If you have it, you should get a mastectomy by 35. LOL OMFG. Not happening. Roly and Poly (I just named them that this second) are staying firmly affixed to my body.
Given my personality, I cannot know I have the boob cancer gene. I would have constant anxiety about suddenly having contracted cancer until it would actually give me cancer. I would be at the grocery store going, crap, did I just get cancer? In the parking lot: Now? Getting a haircut: What about now?
However, I did think of one advantage to having a mastectomy at a young age: new fake boobs. I've wondered how people would react if I got fake boobs for cosmetic reasons, especially at work. Like, who would be the one to point it out? Would they ask if I had been working out, or wait for an informal discussion wherein they could be more direct? But with a mastectomy no one could judge me! No one could judge CANCER BOOBS without being a huge douche! I would be all about the cancer boobs. I would tell everybody I was getting new double d cancer boobs, and afterwards I would go to work in just a bra (and pants, I guess) just to see if anyone would challenge me.
You will not defeat my cancer boobs.
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