"You're my million-dollar baby. My pretty, sexy lady."

I deserve to have every single one of Barry White's greatest hits dedicated to me, dang it. But that's just one girl's opinion. *smiles sweetly*

A while back, I read in Kelly's comments how, after 5 years of being cancer-free, one is considered to be at no greater risk of having cancer again than any random individual who has never had cancer in their life (thus far) of getting cancer themselves.

That gives me 3 and a half more years.

3.5 years until I can stop concerning myself with the possibility of causing my family and friends grief.

40 months till I cease having pre-emptive guilt for leaving my yet-to-be-even-conceived children motherless or, worse, orphaned.

About 1200 days before I can freely fall in love without thinking I'm giving him the bum end of the bargain, what with me possibly dying on him and all.

3 and a half years to shape up my life so that when all this worrying is lifted away from me I can enjoy all the fine things I deserve.