1.            I have a wonderful relationship with my father, but he’s not a talker. Our usual topics of conversations are my kids, the Patriots, the Democratic party and the Red Sox. In the last two months, almost all we’ve talked about is the cancer (and Jeter’s retirement – yippee!). Never in my life did I think my dad and I would talk about my boobs so much. If it’s disconcerting for me, I can’t imagine how hard it is for him. And this is what makes him a good dad.

2.            I’m fascinated to find out how much my boob weighs. I’ve already stepped on a scale today and will be jumping on again in a few days after the swelling goes down to see what the different is. I’m thinking 4 pounds. Anyone want to get in on this with me?

3.            If your liquor cabinet seems to be drying up, go ahead and get the breast cancer. Friends are constantly dropping by with bottles of wine and champagne. I won’t have to hit the liquor store for a few months. Score!

4.            It is a humbling and overwhelming experience to have friends and family rally around you with offers of support and rides and food. It can be difficult to accept such offers when you’re used to being independent and taking care of yourself. Grace is a big lesson to learn and I don’t think that I fully understood what it meant before now.

5.            Going with your second opinion doctor and canceling with your original physician is almost as bad as breaking up with someone. And you can’t just stop answering their calls or have your friend hand them a note in algebra class saying that you don’t want to sit next to them in the cafeteria anymore. You have to take charge of your care and if that means going with another doctor, then you need to just say it like it is. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid. Unpleasant, but necessary.

6.            Venting righteous indignation feels good.

7.            Pharrell’s song “Happy” actually has the power to draw you out of the black hole that you want to sink into when the “what if’s” and the rest of the unknowns start closing in on you (due in no small part to the ridiculous dance my kids do in the car when it comes on the radio).

8.            You can get out of doing most anything unpleasant – cooking dinner, buying groceries, taking out the garbage – by playing the “cancer card.” Sorry, can’t go to the four-hour First Communion retreat – I’ve got the cancer. But it must be used sparingly. That kind of power will corrupt if left unchecked.

9.            Nothing has made me laugh as hard during the last two months as my friend’s daughter coming up to me at the 100^th day kindergarten celebration and saying,  “Mrs. Vartuli, I’m sorry about your boob.” Although my son asking me this morning how I liked the movie “Die Virgin” last night comes close. (To be clear, I was not seeing a porno snuff film. I went to see “Divergent.”)

10.          Words will never be able to express my gratitude for the love and support of family and friends. I love you all and appreciate your awesomeness. See you when I’m lopsided!