It'll Be Me. Not You. Me.

Dear Cancer:

Today is my birthday, and I think you need to understand that you are not invited to my party.

You know how you enjoyed scaring me and my family and friends? Well, you need to know that I have been working hard to keep you from doing that again. I'm healthier now than I've been in years. I exercise. I eat better. Not great, but better. (Even YOU can't make me like vegetables, Cancer, but I'm hitting you hard with fiber and fruit and calcium.)

Those boobies you took? A small price to pay. Besides, I got new ones. And they're spectacular! So is my tummy, by the way. Awesomely flat. Not what you had planned for me, is it? 

You're a bully. You make me cry. You have forced me to take drugs that make me cry more. And make me hot. Then cold. Then hot. And make my joints ache. You are just not nice at all.

So, you can't come to my birthday party. Not this year or next year or the one after that or the one after that. I have a GIGANTIC ENORMOUS box of birthday candles, and you want to know who's going to blow them out? It'll be me. Me, me, me. Not you.

If you'll excuse me, I have a cake to bake.

Sincerely,

Dyanne