I Have Spaghetti

Don't pity me.  Don't cry when we talk.  Don't give me that look, OK?  I'm the same person I was on Wednesday.  I'm the same person I was last year.  Let me feel sad when I need to, and let me  be happy the rest of the time.  Don't put your "sad" on me.  I don't have the time nor the inclination to comfort YOU right now.  I'm sorry this is inconvenient for you, but it's happening.  Do me the same favor my family is doing:  Laugh with me, ask the questions you want to ask, and let's move on, OK?  I haven't been given a death sentence.  It's cancer.  Let's all say the word out loud.  Cancer.  It's not the same word as "death."  See?  You can say it.  It doesn't hurt you to say it.  It doesn't even hurt ME to say it.  "Cancer."  It's just another word.  Like "spaghetti."  Heh heh.  That made me laugh.  I have spaghetti.  I have breast spaghetti.  That's some funny shit right there.

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