It was a grownup party (a 'my divorce is final' one) for a friend of mine, so I left the 4 katzenjammer kids with The Husband and made an appearance.
Most of the people I didn't know, which is fine. I'm the kind of person who can join in talking with total strangers, no problem.
Feeling kinda single, feeling kinda cool (merely because there were no children hanging off me) ... and then:
"Dave, this is my friend Lizard Eater. Her daughter had cancer last year."
Okay, it wasn't quite as non sequitor as that. But it kept happening. I kept having to tell complete strangers the story.
Oddly, when Little Warrior is with me, I don't mind it. In fact, there's something in me that wants to let people know she's a cancer survivor. (Knockwoodpleasegodsofar). She's fat and a bundle of energy. I want people to know that babies can get cancer and can beat it. (Knockwoodpleasegodsofar).
But in this situation ... didn't like it. Didn't want to be The Parent of a Baby Who Had Cancer.
Just wanted to be me. Plain ole Lizard Eater.