On Monday night, I got a phone call from my BFF “V”. She wanted to wish me good luck on my biopsy. “Or is it autopsy”, she asked. “I get those two words mixed up”.

It’s biopsy. I’m definitely not ready for an autopsy yet.

Last time, it was Louise with a suspicious spot. This time, Thelma was acting up. What? You know I named my car; you think I’m not going to name my breasts?

So I had the biopsy on Tuesday, and found out Wednesday that the tissue was cancer-free. That’s a relief, especially since my mother and my maternal grandmother died from breast cancer. I also have a sister and a niece who are breast cancer survivors.

I’m still agitated, though. I feel like I have two ticking time bombs strapped to my chest. I may have to take some preemptive action. More research is required.

After my mother survived her first bout of advanced breast cancer, I was surprised to see that her brush with death hadn’t seemed to change her. Where was her passion, her drive, her fight to live? I asked her what she wanted to do with whatever life she had left. She thought and thought, and after a few minutes she said, “I’ve always wanted to take a wildflower photography course”.

Soooo, no mention of her 9 children, or her many grandchildren. Okay, wildflower photography. The siblings and I bought her a nice camera that could be manually adjusted or entirely automatic. She never used it. She never took a photography course.


Now that I’ve had another cancer scare, the question I have to ask myself is the same. What do I want to do with whatever life I have left? I don’t have to think about the answer. I want to be an artist. I would say I am an artist, but I don’t really practice making art much at all. Kind of Mom-like, aren’t I?

It’s time to stop dreaming, and start doing!

Stay tuned…