The people at the Comprehensive Breast Center (not a name I would have chosen, but then . . . I'm not sure what other name could have been chosen) are starting to recognise my name. Pretty soon they're going to recognise my face, too.
I'm not sure how I feel about this.
Ever since I was probably in high school, I've said, "I don't want to be made a fuss over. I just want people to know who I am." This is partly why, I suspect, I got a job at Starbucks. And write a blog. But . . . the only way anyone at the Comprehensive Breast Center can get to know who anyone is, is for Anyone to get breast cancer.
I like that these seem to be a caring bunch of people who see their patients as people, too, instead of as problems or random assignations or something. I like that. I do. But . . . I'm still not overly delighted to be one of the patients, I think.