Cancer. Wow. Scary to hear, scary to say out loud, scary to include in description of ourselves or the people we care about. I am 65 and until my diagnosis I used to tell everyone I would live to be 104 (as a visiting nurse, one of my favorite patients was 104). Now, that is uncertain. I am old enough to have a heart attack, a stroke, car accident, falling down the steps. I’m taking each day as it comes. No rose colored glasses. Some days better than others. I have given myself permission to feel happy sometimes, to actually forget about cancer sometimes (hard but doable), to make short term plans, to have a pity party once in a while. Women are so used to being the caretakers. We need to free ourselves to ask for help-to give someone else the opportunity to feel good with helping someone