|Amazons were notorious archers, |
and they removed the right boob
to clear the path for the bowstring.
On Tuesday when I was at the day unit at the hospital, we talked about death. Yes, because all of us who are there on Tuesdays have cancer, and we can not be cured.
Everyone of us knows that we are going to die soon, and that we do not have much time left. All of us who are there on Tuesdays, get there in a taxi, because we can not get there on our own and we are not able to get home on our own either.
About Death: What do people think it is like living like this? Knowing that no doctor nor any medicine can heal you? Do you think we sit depressed? Do you think we sit and feel sorry for ourselves and say that life is unfair? Sure, some of us cry sometimes, and some of us look tired, but we do not complain. But we understand, we understand how the others are.
We also understand that someone who has recovered may complain that the new reconstructed boobs does hurt a little, or that scar looks a little ugly. It is also understandable with a celebratory blog post when it is five years since you were declared cured. But you can not forget for five long years to change the name of the blog, "my life as a cancer patient."
Remember, there are still many people who die of cancer. Also of breast cancer. Unfortunately this serious fact drowns in the loud displeasure of the cured who complains about tits and reconstruction.
While today's cancer patients are fighting an uneven battle, as gladiators greeting Caesar, "we who shall die salute you."