When I first got breast cancer, I asked my oncologist to explain to me how I got it. She told me I'd never know, which, narrowly interpreted is true. She didn't want me to blame myself. With the help of my youth, medical science, and a positive attitude, the point would hopefully be moot. Now my youth, as a premenopausal woman with fourth stage breast cancer, is against me.
Medical science offers no cure.
I still have a positive attitude, but it is informed by the questions of what caused the cancer and how do I stay alive. I look for clues everywhere. Somehow the cancer overcame my immune system, created a lump, survived chemo and radiation and lashed out again two years later. It could have been heredity, or stress, or a high-fat diet, or all the diet coke I drank, or the birth control pills I took, or all the drugs I took, or the alcohol I drank, or the cigarettes I smoked. It could have been triggered initially by the painful breakup of a love affair, which may have suppressed my immune system, and the recurrence of my ridiculous workaholism, which may have suppressed it again.