Once More Unto The Breach
Tales of my second go-round with breast cancer before the age of 40, and everything since.

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

I can’t see the back of my head, but Zach told me a few days ago that I was sporting, as he called it, a reverse bald spot. Apparently the follicles at the crown of my head felt a stronger sense of attachment than those everywhere else.

I thought you might like to see this phenomenon, so I had him snap a couple of photos a few minutes ago and . . . well, um, it’s gone.

Sorry about that.

I promise that if any other phenomena—like, say, crop circles—decide to appear, I will act quickly to document them for your viewing pleasure.

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