I’m suddenly sort of grateful for my completely overwhelming job, because it takes a lot of my attention, and keeps me from going too far down the rabbit hole during the day. The nights…well the nights are another story altogether.
I have found some comfort in the BreastCancer.org message boards. A lot of ladies live 5+ years after being diagnosed with mets.
I know I haven’t been diagnosed yet, but I do not have a good feeling about it. It’s like I told D last night: I’d rather get into a head space where I’m prepared to hear the news, and end up pleasantly surprised, than go in with hope. Hope is a fucking killer. I cannot do hope.