Someone once told me stress was bad for cancer; I told them to “fix my life, then.”

I have four thousand more pressing things I could be doing than this, but I’m exhausted and writing here feels relatively “low stakes,” though it’s public.

Today’s visit at NAH, I must admit, was not unpleasant. In fact, it was better than previous visits. Still —

— I carry medical trauma from my youth. I mean when I was 13/14 something really fucked up happened to me in a medical setting, and I’ve never really processed it in a healthy way, but now that I’m a…