I am tired of this breast cancer nonsense.

After going to work today I almost felt normal. Ohh I managed four hours. My neck is sore and my boob is beginning to look like it was butchered. I guess my topless beach days are over but I remember some of the sights on a European beach, the Costa del Sol is not Baywatch and I won't be pulling my top off at Clayton pool ever. So the scars, holes and oddity is between me, the mirror, my husband and anyone who practices their medicine on me. Maybe I can manipulate my back fat into the cup of my bra and no one will be the wiser.

I keep feeling twitching and pulsating in my neck above my port..it is driving me potty. It circles the front of my throat. Who thought this device could make me think about air embolism, stroke and sepsis. Oh I guess anyone who knows I'm a worrywart.

Chemotherapy starts on Thursday, my freezer and cupboards are full of lollipops, popsicles, ginger ale and other paraphernalia that I might need for nausea. I am not a good sick person. I always need hand holding, brow mopping and reassurance. I feel for everyone who encounters my self pitying whiney butt.

But tonight my mood is good and all is well in my world. My wish is yours is good too.