I am pretty sure I have cancer. Not really, but….
Since my Mom died last August–actually since she was diagnosed–every little thing feels like I have cancer. Every time I am pms bloated I think my ovaries are becoming little mutant monsters; turning against me and killing me but I just don’t KNOW it yet. Especially if people ask if I am pregnant–I am NOT pregnant, just fat…but what if the fatness is also cancer!!! Don’t get me started about my boobs looking wonky and larger post baby–pretty sure it’s all cancer.
My Mom kept complaining of feeling bloated for a few months before her CT that showed her belly was riddled with it. We just thought she was fat (she was too old to be preggers)–too many Christmas cookies. Nope–she had monster ovaries that tormented, bred, then killed her. Well she killed herself with 90 barbiturates and our blessing but that a story for another time except to say: GO OREGON! GO WASHINGTON! GO VERMONT!
This paranoia has reached new levels:
I now only use natural cleaners like vinegar, baking soda and lemon.
Poor Susie is a sticky kid at the beach when I slather us with organic B.S. sunblock.
I have stopped using antiperspirant and switched to CRYSTAL HIPPY DEODORANT! World I am sorry for the smells!!!! At least its the spray kind that smells floral so I can pretend that I don’t believe in crystals as deodorant.
When I drive home from work with my phone next to me or when I am at work and my phone is in my scrubs or when I sleep every night and my phone is by my head–its warmth is radiation mutating DNA in my cells…or even now with my lowly chromebook on my lap.
I only bring this up because I feel achy. Sure everyone around me came down with a ridiculously awful cold and the flu vaccine doesn’t work so well this year, not to mention I live with a toddler who goes to daycare, storytime and the 24 hour fitness playland. BUT pretty sure it is cancer…