You heard me. I am fabulous.
Right now I am walking around with a 3-inch cut on my neck covered by a 4-inch bandage and tape. I am covering it up with scarves of various colors and sizes. Snotty teenagers stare at me in disbelief. Older women look at the scarf as I walk by. And I hold my head high and think I am fabulous.
The night before I had my biopsy (the source of my 3-inch cut), fear gripped me from head to toe. I wanted to sneak into my car and drive to the nearest bar and drink tequila with assorted drug dealers and thugs. Instead I slunk off the bathroom, ran the water, and sobbed for a good 20 minutes. Then I stopped -- ready to face the shots and the cuts and the pain.
The next morning as I lay down to get my anesthesia I repeated to myself I am fabulous. Only fabulous people beat cancer.
Two days later, they looked for the cancer in my brain with an MRI. I have serious claustrophobia issues. Seriously. So, I lay with my head in the center of the MRI tube as it clicked and clacked and hummed and growled and thought I am fabulous.
I am fabulous because:
1. I will beat this cancer.
2. I don't have a job (and that takes up all my time).
3. I have the nerve to laugh at this cancer.
4. I don't let this cancer make me afraid (for too long).
5. I have seriously attractive scarves.
6. I will wear a pink wig and look those who stare at me directly in the eye and wink.
7. I am going to have dreadlocks until the time my hair falls out.
8. I am going to win.
Have you seen my new fabulous wardrobe?
The outcome of the biopsy is stage 3 non-small cell lung cancer. The outcome of my MRI is no tumor in the brain.
That means that I am eligible for chemo-radiation trials under Dr. Ross' direction. My chances have now jumped to 20%.
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