I am very sad to tell you that one of our Cancer Chicks has passed. I know many of you know who Ellie is; have perhaps read her blog This Is My Disease, or her comments on mine.

She was diagnosed Stage IV around the same time I was diagnosed Stage II. She had a different kind than me; no lumps she said. No mastectomies. Just two years of chemo and radiation hell from what I could see, so I think she's finally at peace. Never knew her in person or beyond emails, Facebook and blogs. But she affected me and some of you. And she will be missed.

Kind of a mind fuck to be writing about this—I got an email from a friend of hers that I read at about 2 a.m. last night. And as you know I'm awaiting my biopsy results tomorrow. Mom is here, but now I'm looking at the puncture wounds on my neck and kinda freaking out. What's that on the left side? That feels 'enlarged.'

I mean, WTF? How the fuck am I supposed to tell the difference between sore muscles and inflamed lymph nodes? Knots from stress or from Cancer? Huh? Big diff. Do I need to take a Bio 101 course to monitor my own health forever? Why wasn't I told to give myself lymph-node exams? Why don't you put that on your pink ribbons and commercials, Komen?

Why didn't my doctors tell me to be concerned about this?

Mom is here, passed out on the couch, while I'm rapt watching "My Monkey Baby" on TLC. Yeah.

ESPN/Indy/Izod day and night was beyond. Lots of fun stuff, but you guys know I can't think of anything now but the potential of the Big C entering my life again.

So now it's time for another Xannie and people who raise monkeys (and dress them) like children.