Friday, July 10, 2009

Laying down some ground rules so you don't piss me off.

Okay, so I have a little cancer. It's a very little cancer. It's a sarcoma, not a melanoma. It's a very common form of skin cancer. It will be removed next week, and I will be cancer-free.

Yes, it was a bit of a shock. We'd been watching this mole that had cropped up in the last couple of years, and when I went to have it removed a couple of weeks ago, the doc was just going to freeze it, like she was freezing one on my arm.

I told her that I had a weird feeling about the one on my chest, and maybe we should go ahead and biopsy it to ease my mind...

I didn't hear from her that week, and assumed that no news was good news.

Two days ago, she called me. And I'm standing there in my towel, fully expecting her to say that it was totally fine.

And that's not what she said.

It was a bit of a blur. I don't think anybody is prepared to hear that they have cancer. Of any kind.

So, I made my appointment to see the dermatologist to have the rest of it removed, and went about my day.

And when I did start telling people, I've made sure to say that it's a very minor little cancer. It's, like, the lowest form of cancer that can even be called a cancer.

Most people are being awesome about it... I like the clarifying questions. I like hearing the stories of the person they knew that had the same kind of cancer and that that person got it removed and is cancer-free. That this is curable, not just treatable. I like those stories.

I like it when people tell me that I'm totally going to kick cancer's ass, and that, yes, I CAN call myself a cancer survivor...

Because I'll be honest with you. I have a bit of an issue with being all, "I'm kicking cancer's ass!" I mean, it's a sarcoma. The doctor's going to poke me a couple of times with some local anaesthetic, cut it out, make sure she got it all, and then I'll be done. Cancer-free. No chemo. No radiation. I'm, like, a cancer loser. Leave it to me to go off and cure leukemia and develop a measly little skin cancer.

Although, I loved when someone told me that I had a very good excuse to shave my head now... I will be able to say things like, "Sure I look like I had cancer. Because I totally did!"

And I really love it when REAL cancer survivors tell me that I can totally brag about kicking cancer's ass.

Um, but I don't love it when you minimize it. I can minimize it. You don't get to. You get to tell me I kick ass. You do not get to say, "Oh, you mean it's a pre-cancer."

Because it's actually NOT a pre-cancer.

You do not get to speculate as to whether or not I'm freaking out about it.

Because I'm NOT.

You do not get to freak out about it. If you are going to spend any energy on my little ol' cancer, you can send some Light and Love my way. But that's it. I'm not gonna die, so you don't get to worry about that.

I appreciate so much the offers to come hold my hand while I get poked and cut, and maybe I'll decide to take you up on it. And maybe I'll just pull up the BGPs and just get it done on my own.

But in the meantime, know that I am GOOD.

I explained it to my son in a way that even has him joking about it (although, when he found out it was cancer, he apologized for saying "The one on your chest is gross, Mommy!" about the silver nitrate scar left there from the biopsy. My sweet little Bubba!)... We're good with this.

So, we are good.

Yes, I have a little cancer. And while it was tempting to text that guy from the last blog with, "Yeah, I was diagnosed with cancer today, so I'm not really interested in your crap right now..." I didn't.

And right now, I'm actually pretty damned grateful for this little ol' cancer of mine... Because it caused someone on the periphery to step up and bring me joy. And that's a good thing.

So, please. Keep your negativity and your minimizing to yourself. You may tell me I kick ass, that I've got this, that I rock. Keep the rest of it to yourself.


Oh, and while I have your attention, go get that mole checked out. And slather on some SPF 50.

And have a beautiful weekend.


  1. Well my dear friend, I think you already know how I feel about this.

    Yes. You are totally going to kick ass, you have got this covered and you 100% rock!

    As always, L&L x19,x13,x11, Courage, ClaRiTy, Zen and Peace.

  2. Danger darling, we might have to change your name to Waffle House 'cuz you've got this scattered, smothered AND covered...

    what you're going through is legit. real cancer. kicked in the ass by my Danger.

    i love you, girl.

  3. You ROCK. Say, if you get any drugs to combat the excruciating pain, e.g. Vicodin, we could have a pool party.