PMS is a funny thing. When I’m at that point in my cycle, I’ve been known to cry at the singing of the national anthem or at the draft horse show at the Puyallup Fair. (Come on you have to admit it’s moving when they talk about the industry of this great country being born on the back of the Clydesdale.) Anyway, PMS + cancer diagnosis = very sentimental and likely to start weeping without prior warning. Therefore, I beg your indulgence for a day or so while this blog turns a little emo.
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