the note

You know that note you get when someone in your kid's class has head lice?

It's something like:

  We regret to inform you that you might have lice. I mean, you might not. But also - you might. You probably want to check, and even if you don't see any lice, they could still be there. But also - don't worry.

And even though we know it could happen to anybody, we're all silently cursing some nameless, faceless 8 year old.

This week, I was the head lice kid.

My genetic test came back with a Chek-2 gene mutation, which means I was given a similar letter to send to alllllllllll of my family members.

We regret to inform you that J has this freak gene that sort of helps you get cancer. So you might get it. But also - you might not. But you probably want to check, way more often than other people, and even if you don't see it, it could still be there. But also - don't worry. K. Thanks. Bye.

To be fair, there aren't many people left to send it to - you know why?

Because they all died 

of CANCER.

Mine is called called invasive lobular carcinoma.

The doctors call it "the sneaky kind", and they've finally ascertained that they can get rid of my boobs before fixing my heart.

I'm not gonna lie, there have been many tears about this.

Not about the boobs - they've had a good run - two husbands, three kids, a super hot boyfriend. Don't get me wrong, I'll miss them - a lot - but also sometimes you gotta let go of what's not working. If I had a pair of old yoga pants that was trying to kill me, I'd certainly admit that they no longer "spark joy", thank them for their service and send them on their way.

No, the tears are mostly because I'm tired. 

Mostly I'm tired of my kids having to deal with this.

But I'm also tired of losing things to cancer.

My mom, my grandparents, the woman who raised me, my aunt, one of my best friends.

Rico (he gets his own line).

Two businesses. 

My childhood.

Side sleeping  (MRI biopsies are not like the regular ones they use a damn pastry tool and drill).

I'm losing my jobs, my kids peace of mind, the sensation of hugging a person, my ability to take care of my house and family for a while.

So yeah, we still laugh, but there have been tears.

Things will be better. They won't always feel like this. Thank you all for the cards, the notes, the fresh baked bread, the walks, the love. Even when I'm tired, I know I'm the luckiest to have such incredible people in my life.