My birthday is this week.
My 36th birthday last year was somber. I was 2 weeks out from diagnosis and 2 weeks away from my bi-lateral mastectomy. Though I was in somewhat of an ‘ignorance is bliss’ phase, it was still a sobering birthday.
We all know how my 36th year went down. It was unpleasant at best.
Having breast cancer as a non-BRCA, healthy woman was the pits so I have decided that this year on my birthday, I am turning 36 again. I spent most of my 36th year going through doctor appointments, surgeries, treatments, constantly reinforcing that I was indeed 36 and indeed had cancer. I want a do-over.
And allow me to confirm that I am not turning 36 again because I want to pretend to be younger than I am. In elementary school I did 2 grades in one year so I am already a year younger than all of my friends (sorry suckers!). And plus, it would be a waste of time to pretend to be the wrong age when I have plastered my true age on this public blog.
I am doing 36 again because losing a year in your young, vital life to cancer is unacceptable.
So when Facebook reminds you to wish me a happy birthday, wish me a happy 36th. I’ve earned your little white lie.