Mastalgia

Mastalgia isn't the warm, fuzzy, fond memory on how your breasts used to be but pain in the breast. This has been happening on and off ever since my stay in Cancerland. Somehow, surgery? radiation? Taxol? a nerve was damaged which now sends fake pain signals that range from barely there to bone crunching pain. As it always passes and previous to this much ado about nothing episode didn't rear itself in the past 6 months, it is not serious. But either the two days of squishing or the using my breast as a pin cushion set it off again so, not happy.

Winter is my least favorite time but the nineteen degree cold didn't seem so bad today so maybe I am getting used to it. They are pretty good about keeping the condos' roads clear, unlike our neighborhood which is full of icy patches, so I did have a place to run. Then a visit to Shanna and then my survivor's cooking class. Best dish? An olive-mint pesto pasta. Worse: sweet potato spoonbread. And another kale salad. I don't care what a superfood kale is, it tastes like I am eating my lawn.

Your faithful blogger will be missing in action for the next few days celebrating our anniversary. Thirty-six years. My how time flies!

One of the people in my cooking class photograph every little (and big) thing. This is me from my last class before my hair was cut too short