A Word About Diet

One of the first people I called after I found out about "the situation" was my HR director at work. Immediately when I told her the deal, she said she had a friend who has been going down this road and is on the other end. Would I like for her to call me she asked. Sure, I said. Literally, within five minutes, a woman I'd never met before lifted me up.

Her name is Judy, and she gave me information, resources, the number for a breast cancer support hotline and told me that I needed to change my diet. Sugar is bad, she said. It feeds cancer. This struck a chord with me. I'd been living on sugar and caffeine since NJ was born. There were two bakeries in town, and I frequented them about twice a day. Sometimes I was so busy running around, working from home, nursing NJ, tending to chores, caring for the baby, that I only made time to grab a quick sweet treat. This was the norm, day in and day out, and I liked it. I have a serious sweet tooth after all. My husband, J, and I, in the early days, were known to go on a shopping spree at 7-11, late-night, and spend $25 on candy and big gulps alone, and devour them within the hour. Dang.

The next day, my parents told a good friend of theirs, who also is a realtor and was helping us look for a house, about the big C. He FedEx overnighted two dvds on diet. On a note attached he wrote, "Amy has to change her diet right away to get better." And to call his mother if I had any questions.

Of all of the books Judy had read during her victorious fight with breast cancer, she said "Anticancer" was the best. Read it right away, she urged. I went to the bookstore and bought that, along with The Cancer-Fighting Kitchen. I can do this, I thought. I'm building up my arsenal, and I'm kicking the shit out of cancer. I'm not dying. In fact, how could I have even thought that. Not a chance in hell.

Yesterday, I spent $341 at Whole Foods, and I've never felt better.