Sunday night I broke my own personal rule to never watch Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. I was flipping through the channels mindlessly and was caught by the mention of breast cancer. It appears the three children in the family lost both their parents with fourteen months. Their father died unexpectedly followed by their mother’s loss to breast cancer. They are living with their grandparents who needed a home that could accommodate the kids. They had local builders contribute money, they had a walk to raise money for breast cancer, and of course, there was plenty of their trademark emotional manipulation. It isn't that I am cold-hearted; rather, quite the oppsite. I'm such a sap that I have a hard time watching these shows without getting emotionally drained.

Normally I would have turned off the television, but I was drawn in, hugging my pillow, with tears quietly falling down my face. It seems that no matter how far away cancer seems in the rear view mirror, it really is right under the surface. Or perhaps it was my week to feel sorry for myself (which truly does not happen often). You know, labs, three-month check-up, blah, blah, blah. The tests come up so quickly. Luckily, after the next one, I will graduate to the six-month check-up schedule.

The good news is that everything still looks good. Outside of needing some quinine to address the leg cramps brought on by the Tamoxifen, I am doing just fine. I wanted to avoid adding another prescription (especially one that is primarily used for malaria). I tried to drink tonic water (containing quinine) every day, but it just doesn’t taste the same without the gin.

It appears I am holding steady with no sign of cancer. What more could I ask?