Huh. How 'bout that?

Rob and I were having a conversation about whether doctors were allowed to give bad news over the phone. He was convinced that, at least at some point in time, doctors had to deliver bad news in person. Which is kinda funny when you think about it. If you're waiting on test results and your doc calls you into his/her office instead of telling you over the phone, can't you pretty much assume that it's not good?

In any case, my wonderful husband was wrong. Doctors can, in fact, tell  you bad news over the phone. At about 11 o'clock in the morning. While you're sitting at your desk on a typical, rainy Wednesday. They can tell you that the report just came back this morning and that it's cancer.

At least, that's what my doctor told me.

Infiltrating Ductal Carcinoma (IDC). Huh. How 'bout that?

I work with IDCs through my job all time. Incident Determination Committees, that is. The kind of IDC that determines whether someone who alleges to be the victim of domestic violence is, in fact, a victim. Not the kind of IDC that means you have some weird thing pop up in your left boob while you were on vacation in Puerto Rico that isn't supposed to be there.

Puerto Rico, by the way, is lovely. We had an amazing trip and the Yunque Rain Forest is absolutely a "must see". So maybe the weird thing in my left boob was there before we went to Puerto Rico, but that's where we were when I noticed it.

The airports check to make sure there's nothing suspicious in your luggage. But even with one of those TSA body scan thingies, they don't check to see if you have anything funny in your boobs. Bastards.

So there you have it. I turned 31 four months ago. For the first 30 years I've been relatively illness and injury free. The occasional sinus infection or stomach bug here and there. But nothing major. I've been pretty darn healthy. Never smoked. Drink occasionally. Wine is supposed to be good for you, right? I probably don't always eat the healthiest foods, but I can still fit into a size 2, so who cares.

But in the last four months I've had bronchitis, appendicitis, and now frickin' breast cancer. Fo' realz.

So follow along, won't you? You'll laugh... you'll cry... you'll want to hug your dog (I promise to post pictures of the ridiculously awesome Moxie) as I chronicle my adventures of kicking cancer in the teeth!