Private Parts

This whole blog writing thing has me thinking about privacy. So far I have only shared these posts with one person. I have the urge to share it more broadly, but before I do that I want to sort out why. Before I had my surgery, I read this one blog by a young woman about her experience with prophylactic, bi-lateral mastectomies which, although not entirely relevant to my situation, was helpful. I am pretty sure that nothing I write here will be helpful to anyone but myself.

So why do I have the urge to share this with friends and family? I suspect that it has something to do with pride. I confess to feeling a little proud that I can get out of bed in the morning, sit at my computer and type complete sentences. (My standards for ranking accomplishments have been greatly altered since my diagnosis.)  I am also proud of my letter-writing skills. This feeling is largely due to the great amusement my mother derives from the paltry number (in relation to the quantity and quality of the gifts to which they relate) of thank you notes I have written to her over the years. I am well aware that a mother's appreciation of your thank you notes is not a very sturdy justification for wide-spread sharing of your written work, but there is my confession.

The book, Too Many Men  by Lily Brett is about a woman who writes letters for a living. Her clients would hire her to write their "Dear John" letters, condolence letters, letters threatening legal action... I would like a job like that. So I will think of this blog as a giant letter to you, someone I love and to whom I feel grateful.