Shackled by her diagnosis, Desdemona knew this was the first day of the rest of her life. Only she could turn the tides of fate. Only she could face her dragon in what would become the battle of a lifetime. Only she could turn her lemons into lemonade.

Everywhere I turn, I peruse “inspirational” tomes about surviving this or that disease and how to leave no stone unturned in life and – I gotta say – I have about had it up to here with “eat chocolate” advice and “be your own best friend” tips and Chicken Soup for the Soul writing.

I keep waiting for the tips that say, “Have that third martini,” and “Smoke just one more,” and “Use those curse words, that’s why god created them,” and “Say something really bitchy behind someone’s back.” 

But that advice just doesn’t seem to exist in the world of healing.

So I’m gonna give it:

Have that third martini.

Smoke just one more.

Use those curse words.

Say something really bitchy.

It might make you sicker, but you’ll feel much better. 

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