It is hard to find the beginning. It should be easy, but it isn't.

My head swims when I think of possible, most likely, most probably not.

I was with my mom when she died last year of breast cancer. I was with her when she faded away, when she took her last breath. It is not peaceful.

It is heartbreaking.

I get scared. My breasts have been lumpy, bumpy, and leaky for years. I have had mammos, ultrasounds, smears of discharge examined. And all I get to hear is, watch and wait. That's what my mom died from. Annual mammos. To watch and wait. Until the one right before her mastectomy. Suddenly, it went from annual screening to suggest biopsy. It had already metastized by then. Estrogen was the enemy.