Dearest Liver,

You haven’t been so nice to me lately so I thought this blog might give us a chance to get to know each other a little better.

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 2005, you weren’t even a thought on my mind. It was all about chemo, radiation, mastectomies, reconstruction, hormones and eventually lymphedema. Did you get jealous of all of the attention given to other areas of my body? I thought that I was keeping you entertained with my casual love affair with wine and gin, but I guess it wasn’t enough for you. So here we are… 1.5 years after being diagnosed with metastatic cancer and you’re the star of the show. My bone mets have been kept pretty well under control with the various study drugs and chemo, but you are still a pain in my ass.

My good friend tells me that I should think of my metastatic cancer like having a child that I never wanted, but am forced to take care of for the rest of my life anyway. And then he named you Charona. (Like My Sharona, only spelled with a C.) Maybe the reference to being an unwanted child makes you upset, and for that I am truly sorry. But I have to admit, I liked you SOOOO much better when you were just processing my gin…

Love and kisses,

Robin

P.S. If you get bored and want to hear where your name came from: