Ten years ago today I had surgery for ductal carcinoma in situ, which is really just fancy talk for a tiny little bit of cancer. I’m still not sure I know what that means, but I’ve been in pretty good shape for 10 years now so I guess it wasn’t so bad. Sometimes I think like I’m a real sissy to even think it was anything like an ordeal.

It’s funny to remember now, but at the time, I developed an irrational attachment to the surgeon. He was probably in his mid-60s, but he was my new best friend. I found it very hard to be separated from him. It was almost a relief to develop some minor complications that required a visit to the ER where he happened to be on call.

Then I had daily radiation treatment for 6 weeks and became irrationally attached to the technicians who administered it. It must be some kind of medical version of “Stockholm Syndrome.”

Anyway, here I am 10 years later. My life is radically different, and I think the experience of cancer, surgery and the aftermath has a lot to do with where and who I am now.