amy
September 29, 2016 Comments Off on The Day I Didn’t Laugh
When nervous, I break out the comedy. It’s a family trait; my dad and my brothers do the same thing. We go into full stand-up mode when tension gets thick. I’m not sure how my mother has dealt with it over the years, and I suspect she considers all four of us annoying because of it. It’s tough to… Read more »
Some breast cancer patients who have had bilateral mastectomies require yearly CT Scans. I didn’t expect to be one of them, but during surgery a cancerous area was discovered on my chest wall. That cancer was not visible during the diagnostic ultrasound that confirmed two areas of concern. That cancer was not biopsed with the others while I was… Read more »
Yesterday I was scrolling through my Facebook Newsfeed when I saw an image of a mother with pink hair breastfeeding, captioned with the title “Mom Prepares for Cancer Battle with Final Breastfeeding Photo Shoot.” Countless memories and thoughts streamed through my mind, and it was a moment or two before I realized I was holding my breath. Since my breast cancer diagnosis on… Read more »
amy
June 30, 2016 Comments Off on The Day My Doctor Didn’t Inject Me
The first time I met my oncologist, a few things caught my attention immediately: His tall, lanky frame His English accent His bowtie His wit His title of “Doctor.” My geek was in danger of showing, thanks to my husband Jason’s years of influence. In those first few moments with the oncologist, I was desperate to work a Doctor Who… Read more »
amy
August 20, 2015 Comments Off on The Day I Could Not Breathe
Some of my fears are rational: Heights–Hoist me up on a ladder and be ready to hold it steady, because I will make it rattle with my shaking legs. As a matter of fact, the only reason I’m 5’2″ is because, in my youth, I was scared to grow taller. Losing my kids in a crowd: Some day, when Baby… Read more »