bc

That’s short for breast cancer.  I see the signs all around me.  The pink ones.  My aunt died from it.  But until recently I didn’t know anyone from my generation who was suffering from it.  That changed a short time ago when I reconnected with a friend from college who told me she was fighting for her life.  The young blonde coed I sweated through assembler with is dealing with something much more difficult than the programs we were assigned back then.  She is blunt.  Funny.  A fighter.  I so much hope she wins this fight for as long as possible.  Her brush with mortality reminds me of my mother breaking her hip and moving to a nursing home and my determination to do something.  Anything but live for nothing.  I wish her well.  I wish her to continue the fight.  28 of 33 treatments behind her.  Hang in there for both of us.