Ch. 1 A Cyst is Just a Cyst I am diagnosed with breast cancer on the first day of spring, 1997.  I keep the news quiet until the doctors know how serious it is, and my life becomes a strange mix of endless medical appointments interspersed throughout my normal daily routines. Ch. 2 The Smile in the Pit of the Arm I have more surgery and find that the cancer has spread to my lymph nodes, which makes me a kindred spirit of Hsing-Hsing, the giant panda in the Washington, D.C. Zoo, also undergoing lymph node removal Ch. 3 Slashed, Poisoned and Burned, Oh My! Three of the standard protocols for treating breast cancer are surgery (slash) chemotherapy (poison) and radiation (burn), and my doctors recommend the full triathlon for me. By the time the year-long process is outlined, I am simultaneously relieved to know there is a plan, and worried about my ability to stay the course. Ch. 4  The Main Central Vertical Flow I begin to explore alternative therapies, including jin shin jyutsu, a physio-philosophy handed down from Japanese tradition, which balances out energy in the body and releases blockages. Ch. 5 I Guess We're All Going Back to Church      For years I have organized memorial services at work for colleagues who have died, and now that I find myself in need of prayer, I decide I'd rather have them immediately, while I'm in a better position to benefit from them. Friends and family gather together in a healing service on May 7, 1997, National Anxiety Disorder Screening Day. Ch. 6 Bring on the Toxins, Bring on the Drugs I begin chemotherapy the same day as my 20th college reunion. Friends call me from the campus festivities, and upon hearing that I experienced no side?effects, they ask if I could share my anti?nausea drugs with them, as they were feeling significant side?effects from their celebration. Ch. 7 Velcro Hair and Vacuumed Head       Losing my hair turns out to be a far more humorous experience than I ever imagined. Shopping for wigs, washing the last strands of hair down the drain and remembering to put something on my head before I leave for work each morning become familiar routines. Ch. 8 Humorous Healing and Kick-Ass Cures        I research other people's survival strategies, and update them for the 90's. Where Norman Cousins watched the Marx Brothers and Three Stooges to keep up his spirits and strengthen his immune system, I watch Monty Python and Politically Incorrect for my daily dose of humor. Sometimes comic relief doesn't work and I need cinematic representations of good triumphing over evil. At those times I turn to action movies - films starring Bruce Willis or Jean Claude van Damme usually fit the bill - and see the bad guys get their butts kicked. Ch. 9  Thank You Marie Curie       As I go for my daily radiation therapy, I remember the junior high school book report I did on the life of Marie Curie, whose picture hangs on the wall of the radiation unit. As an unenlightened eighth-grader in the 1960's I could not understand why girls would want to study something as boring as science. As a cancer patient in the 1990's I am so grateful that she didn’t share my myopic view of the scientific world and preserved in her discovery of radium, even though that ultimately killed her. Ch. 10 Farewell to Da   My father is diagnosed with cancer shortly after me and we decide we now qualify for our own family cancer cluster. His treatment is not as successful as mine, and he dies in three months. I think of him as having taken my place and given me another shot at living. Ch.11 Do Bras Cause Cancer, and if so Will Pizza Cure it, or if not, Would More Sex Have Prevented it in the First Place?     Some of the less scientific theories on causes and cures. Ch.12 Postoperative Parking Perils    The Boston area has some of the best hospitals in the world. The same cannot be said of its parking garages or its drivers. After a few trips back and forth to treatment facilities I decide that while I probably will survive the cancer, I am less certain of my ability to survive the commute back and forth to treatment or find a parking spot in the many hospital garages with which I am rapidly becoming very familiar. Ch. 13 Return of the Tattooed Lady       I finish treatment, and assume that because I am no longer having toxic chemicals pumped into me on a regular basis, I will feel fine. However, it’s not so easy to move beyond cancer, and I realize that I need to define for myself how I want to live in this uncertain time. I work through the demons and emerge stronger, more creative and empowered by the experience.