|imagine me, hunched over and madly typing away|
First off, let me say thank you for doing your job as Cancer Killer Extraordinaire. I know it was not easy, but you blasted through those stubborn lymphocytes and succeeded in part I of last year's biathalon (although you managed to damage quite a few healthy cells in the process). I appreciate the fact that I am still alive and that I continue to look back on my days with you as a memory. Hopefully, someday the memory of the time we spent together will dim (kind of like labor pains) and I may even forget you altogether. Highly unlikely, but not entirely impossible. After all, you did sever quite a few memory cells.
I'm just wondering why I must continue to clean up after you almost a year after our last rendezvous. Just today, I went to the dentist, only to find out that I have not one, not two but SIX cavities that need to be tended to. Seriously?? SIX?? Thanks a bunch.
I mean, is House real? I don't even watch the show, but I'm thinking the writers need to start taking notes from me. I am the mystery case with all of my symptoms: tachycardia, shortness of breath, breast pains, weird circulation issues, chest pains, reflux, neuropathy, lightheadedness, fatigue... I have some theories that involve you. I'm not blaming you, per se, just more giving credit where credit is due.
What I'd really like to say is that September 30 is approaching: the anniversary of our sixth date. And whether or not I am back to work on that Friday, I am warning you that I am coming to reclaim my life. Me (and my army) can take it from here.
Thank you kindly,
Mia R. Blitstein