I'm going to throw myself a big party. Parties and fun times always help in times of crisis and I think that's true especially now. Bring your happy face, favorite drink and most fabulous shoes. But do not bring anything pink unless it's really fancy and/or tacky.
I'm still have trouble believing this is all true. It's just...that's not me. I'm not that person. I don't *want* to be that person. I didn't think it could happen to me. I'm young and healthy and just generally awesome. That's not going to happen to me. Yet, here we are. And it's ok. It's all going to be ok. I do keep hoping the phone will ring with someone telling me that it was all a big mistake. "That pathology report? That's Some Other Melanie, sorry!" So far that hasn't happened, but I secretly hope.
I think when receiving a diagnosis like breast cancer, we naturally wonder why. Why is this happening to me? What did I do wrong? We think back to everywhere we've ever worked or lived, all those times we put our phone in our bra (don't tell me I'm the only one), our family histories, our old bad habits, and on and on until we drive ourselves nuts. We wonder why our last annual exam didn't catch the lump. Why we didn't notice it a month ago or a year ago or more.
But the reality is this: we can't know and it doesn't matter. You could be the best person on the planet and check your boobs daily, but none of the things you do are really preventative measures. You can only hope to catch it early. Sometimes shit just happens. Sometimes it happens to you.
And sometimes when shit happens we throw a party. Out with the old boobs, in with the new!