That's A Negative, Ghostrider

Remember when he used to be hot, not crazy?

Despite not being (for me) overly worried about the bone scan, I did have some anxious moments over the past few days.  Mentally penning letters for J to open on each of her birthdays I wouldn't see.  Imagining who would/wouldn't come to my memorial service/street dance.  Wondering whether I would linger bravely or succumb quickly. You know...just being myself.

Anticlimactic, to be sure, as the results were (heavenly/delightfully/amazingly/ joyously) negative.  Oh, yeah, sure there's that degeneration in both knees and in my back.  Nothing I didn't know--oh, wait, yes--some more in my shoulders that  I haven't ever felt--just something to look forward to!   And, yes, I  do love me some objective findings.  A high price for validation...sure.  But while I may be falling apart, it's not because of cancer so who the fuck cares?

I'm not sure if that's the right attitude, but pain, however chronic, however miserable, is fine.  I can raise J with a limp.  I can go to her graduation on crutches.  I can chair dance at her wedding.  I. Do. Not.  Care.  I am FINE!!!

Oh, except for the above-mentioned, and the osteopenia. Which, as it turns out, I had last year but my now-retired oncologist didn't mention that to me.  Letrozole is a rough drug; surgical menopause is not for the faint of heart.  Pass the skim milk and the kale salad--as soon as I'm done with my weight-bearing exercise.  Tomorrow, obviously.

Because--did you hear me?--IT'S NOT CANCER!!!