Triple-Negative Invasive Ductal Carcinoma...What?!?

I've known since Friday the 15th...ha! See what I did there?! That my nasty little breast visitor is invasive ductal carcinoma. First of all...I want to call the laws because you touched my breast without me asking! Ummm sir... how about you get a name first or better yet buy a girl a drink? I like Margaritas or Kah Blanco Tequila. Is chivalry really dead? Just invading my girls without permission. All I see when I think about this thing are those stupid Mucinex commercials or what was the name of that stupid virus movie that came out in the 90s? Osmosis Jones. Some random evil character inserting themselves in an already-written plot.

Now we're adding Triple-negative to it. Saying the words Invasive Ductal Carcinoma requires a dictionary all by its lonesome and you wanna add a triple-negative to it? Last time I checked nothing with zero is positive. If you're a zero you're a loser. Double O is James Bond's code name that allows him the license to kill. Then we have triple-negative. Now that I think of it...zero isn't a negative either. It's in the middle. Go left of zero you're in the negative; go right and you're in the positive. Does that mean I'm stuck between the minus and the plus? I mean what am I working with here?

What I do know of the situation is that it attacks mostly black women. It won't respond to hormone or estrogen treatments since it doesn't have the receptors. There's a protein that it doesn't have either.

YET...

it is very treatable. That is truly all I need to know about it. I'm fighting this thing because you assaulted me sir. Touching a woman's breast is still a felony or at least a Class C misdemeanor. Either way, you are paying a fine. Knowing it is treatable means I won't be fighting alone physically. Spiritually, you sir are already dead. God has taken care of you. You just don't know it. I can't wait for God to get His healing hands on you because you attacked a Child of God...how dare you?! He's in it with me. Working through me. Fighting for me.

It sucks that I had to interfere with my nephew's happiness this week. He's on spring break in his freshman year of college. I had to tell him while he was supposed to be taking a breather from school. Happiness doesn't come easy, and he finally found it for himself. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin it. I reassured him that I was fighting with all my heart and soul to make sure I live. He's already dealt with cancer killing his Paw-Paw. He doesn't need to be worried about me too. He will be okay.

He had his cry and now he knows his auntie ain't no punk. Pass me those Ali gloves. I'm about to hit the ring like Jazz! *queue my theme music as I hit the ramp* I refuse to go out like Stephanie McMahon against Chyna. She may have won Triple-H in real life, but she wasn't winning nothing in that ring against the 8th Wonder of the World. I got my beer like Stone Cold waiting for my victory after I've landed that Tombstone Piledriver! I'm ready...Let's go!!!!