Origins of Disease

Aside from toxicity, environmental or personally administered, it was important to self reflect and find answers to why cancer and why my breast?

18 months before diagnosis, I had left the man I'd lived with for 13 years.

I didn't make a clean break, honest and respectful of both him and myself.

I slunk around having a love affair with the man I was to be with for a while after.

Then, when I couldn't stand it anymore, I blurted it out. We were in a hotel room, attempting to have a romantic evening together. It was heartbreaking, because he had paid for this room to please me, he knew I liked anonymous rooms, the crisp white sheets, the silence all around.

And he was so sweet, considerate, and wanting to make love.

But I could not. I had given my heart to another man and the thought of going through with making love with my husband was impossible. So, I blurted it out.

The shock in his face, the hurt. My fear and guilt. I knew it was so wrong, that he didn't deserve it, I knew he was responsible too, in his way, but he'd have to face that himself, it wasn't mine to deal with. We stopped touching each other and somehow eventually slept.

In the morning, it was that awful empty feeling separation brings. Knowing its over, and the Chandler desert air seemed full of that emptiness, that mean cruel isolation.

We had a business together and I didn't see how it was going to work out.

I had fears, he would try to kick me out, he would get violent, despite never having been violent in all those years.

I knew I had broken his heart.

The drama of lost love but I paid for it with a tumor 18 months later.

He went through so much and so did I. He hated me and wanted me out of his sight and I insisted on staying in the business and working it out so we could be friends and run it and succeed.

I remember feeling I would die, that he wanted me to die, that I wouldn't be able to stand on my own two feet without him. He'd been my caretaker, paying my way, dressing and feeding me, driving me everywhere. And at night, right up until the end, he was ready to give himself to me, he had it in him, that passion and desire.

That feeling of dying stayed for a while, because I had to do things for myself I had never done. I had to borrow money buy a car (my first car ever at the age of 41) pay my own rent stand my ground and get myself to the wine store to face him and work all day be nice stand my ground tell him no when he shot his venom at me and then, alternated that with wanting us to get back together, telling me no one would ever love me the way he loves me that i was being a fool that the bisexual man I was in love with would die of AIDS didn't I know that 70% of men who frequent sex clubs catch HIV and die of AIDs?

All these words and emotions, changes unexpected, and then going home to my lover, and his guilt and anger, and his passion and outrageously abandoned sexuality that made me so happy, his humor and intelligence, his skinny tall glamor.

It was stress I could not afford, tension I had no clue what to do with, and inside the lump grew.
It festered and fermented and you can give me all your knowledgeable reasons about 'cancer personality' and 'toxicity' and this and that and you should do this and do that, I know that I had taken a bad bad turn, not in leaving him, but the manner in which I had done it.

And now, it's six years later and the cancer has not spread and I'm faced with half a flat chest and I'm going to manage my feelings this time, I'm going to take the responsibility and make my choices, I'm going to say HERE I AM THIS IS WHAT IM DOING I HEAR THE PUBLIC OPINION AND THANK YOU FOR CARING AND IM FOLLOWING THE RUTHLESS YES INSIDE THE YES TO LIVING AND OUTLIVING THIS.

This cancer, this remnant of a past life, this consequence of bad choices and mistreating myself and others, this conscience that has matured is taking me with it to health and a physically immortal soul and cellular structure.

I'm planning on living forever and its happening right now as I speak.