Dear Cancer,

I appreciate the fact that you have taken up residence in my boob and that in the five to seven years you've been hanging out you've probably gotten pretty comfortable. But, I'm here to tell you that you are NOT welcome anymore!

It is making me so angry that you won't just get out of there on your own, and I have had to resort to being injected with horrifying drugs just to kill you off. Those drugs are not fun for me AND they've made me bald, chunky and pasty- I feel like a used car salesman from 1983. Can't we just call a truce- you leave, so I can stop taking these meds? This last round is kicking my bottom, and I really want to be normal again. Please leave.

If you choose to ignore my urgent plea, then I'll be forced to go all out on you. You'll be so hard hit you won't know what happened. I am a WARRIOR, after all. And, even though I'm a little tired at the moment, I still know how to muster up some of my southern redneck blood and kick some butt. You have the choice: make this easy on yourself and leave or start writing your tombstone. I'll be checking in next week to see what you've decided.

Sincerely,

Susan C. Tucker