In which it is possibly explained why people call me "Upbeat"

Well, you know how it is. You find out you have a life-threatening illness, and you have to annouce it to your friends.

I was reading over some old emails prior to deleting them, and found that this is how I had announced TWCT to a friend who is an Episcopal priest (but hasn't found a place to exercise that priesthood since moving to New Mexico):

" Hi,

First, thank you for your long and newsy letter. I understand – not as fully as you live it, but I do understand – what it is to have a sense of unrealized priesthood. Lately, the desire to preach is on me again, not that our priest isn’t good at it, but I have Thoughts.

Or I had thoughts. Since the 17^th, they’ve all been focused on one thing. I have breast cancer.

(This space reserved for a variety of highly mixed emotions)

I won’t dump all the medicalese on you. [Her spouse] can do that if he wants, and you want. Suffice to say that my choices (oy, such choices!) are between a lumpectomy followed by chemo and radiation, or depending on some genetic stuff they are now doing, a double mastectomy and ovary removal.

I never expected to live a long time, but I was really hoping for heart disease. Of course, I may beat this and emerge a curly-haired blonde. I’ve already decided that since I have the most beautiful middle-aged hair on the planet, and since anything less would make me very sad, I am going either with bandanas or really cheesy wigs in colors like bright green. But not pink. The first person to pin a pink ribbon on me is getting a punch in the eye."

My hatred for pink is undiminished. But this also made me realize that "someone is getting a punch in the eye," has pretty much characterized my approach to dealing with the Boobeaucracy. And you know, while it may have been a bit hard on some of the people who had the misfortune to get in my way and some of them may not have deserved it, on the whole it wasn't a bad approach.

Except for one thing. I have already told the Bravest Man Alive loudly, vociferously, repeatedly, and with great variety that any obit for me is never, ever, EVER going to say, "after a long battle with cancer." It may say, "died, after a long battle with what she called the Boobeaucracy, from cancer."

I will most certainly end up dead. But I will never be defeated.

(And no, I haven't had any bad news. Just... going through a few things, is all.)