Six

 Six years ago today, I was diagnosed with Endometrial Cancer. Going though treatment, I sobbed once to my radiation oncologist about feeling like an outsider.  I didn't fit in with my cancer free friends. I didn't fit in with the Breast Cancer Writing Group that I had tried out because a) they were of "Grandma age" and b) I wanted to live to see my kids graduate elementary school, I can't even get that far ahead of myself.  

Tonight, I attended a rising 9th grade to 10th grade meeting for my oldest.  I am not sure if it is because the date is triggering for me, but I sat there in the auditorium listening to everyone around me.  Parents that I am friends with, acquaintances with, those that I didn't know. And what the fuck. Everyone carbon copy, cut paste.  At that moment, it dawned on me why my oldest hated it.  Fake. Bullshit filler conversation.  I was triggered and I started to panic. My heart racing, cold sweat.  

This isn't going to come out right, so I will just say it.  Once you have been diagnosed with an illness, you weed out the bullshit. You realize what is important and crucial to you getting better.  Whether it is a spiritual awakening, come to Jesus moment, whatever. Collectively, "we" (meaning the patient) are on a different level of even Being. 

Fuck you,  January 2.  Cheers to January 3!