I had no idea. I thought my cancer was probably stress related more than anything. Severe depression and PTSD caused extreme stress since childhood. But because of said depression, I was a heavy drinker from my early teens through my mid twenties. I no longer drink, but between the alcohol and the stress? Well, that fast growing Stage III certainly came from somewhere. . .
Don’t shoot! I am about to deliver a dirty little secret kept by doctors. Why? I don’t think anyone wants to know. I’ve held this post for a year while waiting to get up the nerve. My hand shook while pressing publish.
I had only heard rumblings about it and that was long ago, after Paul McCartney’s wife, Linda, died of breast cancer. I quickly forgot, until last summer.
The bomb was dropped into the conversation while enjoying lunch al fresco with a friend who had just finished radiation treatment for stage I breast cancer. “You know, we’re not supposed to drink alcohol,” she said.
The light in the outdoor courtyard shifted as the splashing water in the fountain transformed into broken glass. My heart sank along with the fork down to my plate. “I remember something about that.”
I was diagnosed with stage I lobular breast cancer in April…
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