Boo to Breast Cancer

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

V-Day for Amazons

Today is my least favorite holiday, Valentine's Day. I never particularly celebrated it even when I was married, when it seemed entirely manufactured and fake, though that might have been because no one had ever been romantic about V-Day with me. I actually think if a man I loved sent me flowers or wrote a note, I'd be weak in the knees. But now I am not only without a valentine of my own, even a funny valentine, I'm a St. Valentine martyr. My chances for romance or even just sex seem way out of reach. The best I can do is be a one-breasted Amazon in the good fight for love. Not to mention life.

Sob. Literally. When a very sweet male friend of my acquaintance wrote nice things to me today in an email (though non-romantic nice things), I wept a bit in the library, which I'm sure made the studious twenty-somethings nearby uncomfortable.

Snap into the bright side of the picture: a check-up visit to the oncologist affirmed that as far as we know, I'm healthy now. That's not a small thing. That's huge. I'd rather be alive without romance than loved and dead. Period, the end.

Talk about the end...not the end of my life, but the end of this blog. If you have been following it (and to my great joy, some of you apparently have), I want you to know that it may cease (not exactly upon the midnight, as Keats said) now, or any time, I can't say. It was meant to be an account of my recurrence, and it has been, but it seems I'm going to put that behind me and go on. I may check back once in a while to recount how well I've adjusted to my new body with time. Or some development in my life may occur that impels me to say more...I hope not a health development. Whether I do or not, I want you to know how grateful I am that you...mostly anonymous you...have listened when I had something I needed to write. You were the best medicine I had, you readers.

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