I just booked a new gig. In fact, I'll be the star of a mystery show! Isn't that exciting? Well, sort of. You see my breast surgeon just informed me that I will be the star of her upcoming tumor conference presentation. Glamorous, right?
I had called the doctor to discuss this nasty infection which has once again ravaged my body (round two of cellulitis is a doozy.) While she was giving me some tips on how to manage the pain and discomfort, she mentioned how ironic it was that I had just called her since she has been discussing my case left and right. Turns out it's a really odd and foreboding fact that my breast cancer reacted so positively to chemotherapy, yet trace amounts of cancer were still detected in my lymph nodes after my double mastectomy. As I listened to her words I clutched my phone and allowed a brief wicked thought to enter my mind. I wish she was talking about anyone but me. It's natural enough to feel this way. But it is wicked because it basically implies that I wish another young mother was going to be on the big screen besides me. I shushed away the negativity and decided that, like it or not, this is my starring role.
My big debut won't be on the silver screen and the audience surely won't be munching on popcorn. But I hope the slides of my tissue will deliver a compelling performance, one that will be viewed and discussed over and over until the mystery is finally solved.