Everything for me right now comes down to a tiny little blue dot between my breasts that could be mistaken for a freckle were it not dark blue, new to my skin, and a mark I didn’t give consent to have during a time when I have very little control over my body.
As I’ve said to a few of you the last month, having cancer is like starring in a horror sci-fi film you didn’t agree to star in, but if you don’t play the part, you die. As in the black and white Westerns of old, if someone shoots at your feet, you dance.