I used to have a ceramic cupcake. My sister and I got in the habit of putting our worries in the cupcake and, you know, letting the cupcake deal with it. I gave my cupcake to my girl when she needed it, so Sister Little just sent me this new one.

I put cancer in it.

Tomorrow I get measured so I suppose if I swell or shrink dramatically after surgery they can tell.

Today I went to a big work meeting and didn't tell one person I'm out on Friday to have just a touch of breast cancer removed.

Some of them know. They've been cool. If anything, it's a high level of privacy compared to the culture I used to be in so I float between various ways to interpret the people around me.

So you act like it's nothing at work, so they'll take you seriously (which I very much want), and you minimize it at home so as not to scare your daughter. When do you get to acknowledge it's real? Like OMG the pink ribbon thing happened? I'm going to act like this is totally cool, yo, even though lasers are going to attempt to kill certain cells in my body every day for weeks and I'm going to have to go to work and take care of my kid and deal with my husband's travel like it's business as usual.

The most unfair thing isn't the cancer. It's having to act like I don't care I have cancer.