It happened again today. Someone asked my mom, "What was it exactly that Jennifer did to cause her cancer? Was it the chlorine in water?"

When I hear this question, I now understand that what is truly being said is, "Please tell me what I must do or not do to ensure I never get cancer!" So without further ado, I hereby release into the world the hidden truth. Yes my friends, you don't have to ask anymore, I am going to reveal the catastrophic error in my ways that led me down this tragic path. Premarital sex.

Look, I know that no one ever wants to have a lump that is "most likely nothing" or to hear "we just want to run a couple other tests to make sure," because we fear a diagnosis of cancer. I sure as heck never wanted it to happen to me. I certainly do not wish it on anyone else. But cancer, like most the big problems in life, is multi-factoral. No ONE or TWO things guarantee a person will or won't get it. I know lots of smokers who don't have cancer and I know athletes and vegans who do. I know people with fantastic attitudes about life and coping with illness who have died from cancer and I know a couple of real doomsayers who just keep spreading their despondency into old age.

I wish I had better news. I wish the answer could be found in a pill or in the use of water filters. Honestly. Unfortunately, today's lesson is simply this: WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE MARRIED!

I met with my doctor today and I have several lymph nodes on the left side of my neck and in my chest showing tumor activity. All other tumors are stable. So next week I start weekly, low-dose treatments. I guess I'll have to cancel my summer book and movie promotion tours. I just hope my story "Are You F'ing Kidding Me with All This Bull$#it?!" can stand on its own.

So much for finally getting my hair done.

I have been working on writing up my will, statement of wishes, and all of that. This process involves me sitting and staring off into space wondering, "Does anyone really want any of my crap?" I do have an exceptional collection of shoes but who wants used shoes? And there is my fabulous iPhone but the next generation comes out in July rendering mine an expensive paper-weight.

So here I go again wondering what I will leave behind that is tangible or valuable to anyone. Only my daughter. The most precious gift and it makes me incredibly sad that I am still selfish enough to say, "NO! I don't want anyone to have her but me!" I want to be the one who guides her into her adult self, supporting her when she needs it, giving advice that she'll most likely ignore. It should be me. It is one thing to make these decisions when there is relative certainty that on average women in the US live into their 80's. It is quite another thing to review that decision when medical science tells me I am anything but average. (news flash!)

With bullish tenacity, I forge ahead in surviving and thriving knowing that as much as I need my daughter she also needs me. Once these documents are complete, I will tuck them away to collect loads of dust and one day far in the future, laugh that I ever thought them necessary.

Tomorrow I have my third port placed, again in my right arm (this time with an extra week to heal before treatment).

On June 30th, I have my next scan.

Olivia has successfully completed Kindergarten which now is such a significant accomplishment that it merits caps, gowns, and evening ceremony. (Given the increasing drop-out rate, I guess kids now rarely make it this far?)

I have no funny quips or insights to share, but if you are up at three a.m., IM me! The anxiety attacks, nightmares, and sleepless nights are in full force so I'll be up.

Last week I received my 90-day 360 degree appraisal. The feedback was great. My boss is very pleased with my performance and methods. In fact, the development plan I am putting together as the result of the feedback is to create ways of infusing more fun and interactive chunks into my work days. Yes, I was told I need to have more fun at work. Jealous?

You see, I am achievement oriented. I thrive on praise and accomplishment in a way that allows me to do things like get a Master's degree while undergoing radiation and multiple rounds of chemotherapy. I love setting goals and achieving them. I get a rush from "checking things off a list" as DONE. And if someone gives me praise, it has narcotic effects.

So today was a crushing day. I had failed to note Olivia's dance recital on my calendar. When my mom reminded me on Sunday, I had a fully booked day at work. Today I set about re-arranging things so that I could leave work early and watch my pop diva in training perform in her Hip-Hop recital. She was so happy to see me there and she was a star performer. So tonight at bedtime when Olivia informed me that I am the "worst Mommy in the world," I found myself unable to simply ignore it and continue nagging. Oh, I kept nagging as all us great parents do ... but the words still ring in my ears.

What disturbs me the most is that I keep asking myself if she is right. I mean, even a mediocre mom would certainly write down all dance recitals and schedule accordingly months in advance. What if she is right? Maybe everything I do is just to cover up the fact that I have no business raising a child. Perhaps I am failing her in every way that truly matters. Is there ever a point where a parent can sit back and honestly say, "ah yes, I have done well at this!"

I think of my own mom who has been an extraordinary parent. She continues to be what I need even as my needs have changed. But I wonder if she looks at how I am as a mom and doubts herself. I guess what I need is a checklist, diploma, or certification for various components of parenting. If there was a Bachelor's Degree in Nurturing Creativity then I am sure I could excel!

But alas, I am left comforting myself in the knowledge that some of the most exceptional human beings have had train-wrecks for parents. Maybe Olivia will be one of those exceptional ones. :)