I said something dumb to a friend the other night.
She had just found out, that day, that she has an extremely rare disease with an unpronounceable name: derma-tofibrosarcoma protuberans of the breast (say that three times fast).
Fortunately, her doctors say it’s completely curable through surgery.
There’s the key stupid word: fortunately. That’s the one I hit on. Despite the fact that I myself am a hypochondriacal, paranoid nitwit when it comes to my own health (seriously, I’ve had panic attacks over freckles), I immediately launched into “look on the bright side!” – exclamation point for dramatic effect – as if that makes everything better. Not my best move.
“This is what people keep telling me,” my friend said. “I still say, why get it at all? I feel like I’m entitled to at least one day of [questioning the Universe] before people step in and attempt to placate me.”