Yesterday while driving I started thinking about my numerical age and my mental age. When I was diagnosed at 27, I turned 28/98 two weeks later. It took some time throughout the grieving process for me to really shed all off a lot of my bad personality traits. Although some of them still exist, I would say I am much more enlightened then most people. I live each day knowing that tomorrow may not exist. I think about this everyday while most may only think about it once a year. I try to not sweat the small stuff and be mindful that the person next to me in line may be struggling too. They don’t know they are standing next to a dying girl, and maybe they are dying as well, or have something else tragic going on in their lives.
I then drifted off to how sad it is that my life will be cut short.
Then my mind went to how terrible it is that I am sure many people still gossip about dumb stuff that bother them about me – all the while knowing that I am dying. When you have cancer, does that make you exempt from the catty gossip? Probably not but it really should.
As this was all going on in the span of 5 minutes in my head. Then I turned right. As I did a man waiting to turn left yelled at the top of his lungs,
“Is your turn signal broken you stupid bitch!!”
Thank you for proving my point sir. Also, thank you for recognizing I am a female just with a buzz cut.