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"  &amp;quot;Did you see the diagnosis?&amp;quot; my oncologist asked me in his office before the holidays. I&amp;#039;d just handed him the report from a neurologist, who was charged with trying to figure out why I&amp;#039;ve been getting a little dizzy at times. I read the first two diagnoses, which were post-cancer and chemo-related issues that I already knew about - minor side effects after all I&amp;#039;d been through. But then I read the third diagnosis: &amp;quot;Dizziness and Giddiness.&amp;quot; And it even had an official code next to it for the insurance company. &amp;quot;What, did you giggle through your appointment?&amp;quot; he asked me. Finally, I have a diagnosis for my entire life. My friends have long told me that I&amp;#039;m an easy laugh. In fact, they&amp;#039;ve said that I would laugh at a blank piece of paper. So when they get me going, they hold up paper, which of course, makes me laugh even harder, until I&amp;#039;m snorting and in tears and everyone is waiting for me to end my embarrassing giggle attack. Dizzy and giddy indeed. I&amp;#039;m not sure why the insurance company has to pay for that. A few days after my doctor&amp;#039;s appointment, I was playing paddle tennis with some friends when I smacked a beautiful, un-returnable shot between right between our opponents, my friends Paula and Susan. &amp;quot;I could beat her when she was sick,&amp;quot; Paula lamented. &amp;quot;I know,&amp;quot; Susan replied. &amp;quot;This stinks.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I kicked cancer&amp;#039;s a--, and I can kick yours, too!&amp;quot; I shouted, and then I glanced over at my partner, who looked absolutely mortified. I stopped trash-talking and stifled my laughter. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;d never thought we&amp;#039;d make fun of something so serious,&amp;quot; she said, shifting her feet and furrowing her brow. Clearly, she&amp;#039;s never been dizzy and giddy. It&amp;#039;s the best way to get through something so serious, but it&amp;#039;s not always easy to do, especially when so many of my neighbors have cancer. This weekend, I heard about an eight-year-old in my town who has an inoperable brain tumor and a father of teens who has colon cancer. I reported about an area college kid who got a diagnosis of Hodgkin&amp;#039;s lymphoma for her 21st birthday last month. And I knew that a close neighbor had recently found out that her father&amp;#039;s cancer had metastasized into other organs. Geez, even Socks, the Clintons&amp;#039; family cat, has cancer. It&amp;#039;s a Cancer Honor Roll of sorts, and I&amp;#039;m glad to be off of it. I just hope I stay off. Meanwhile, I will keep all of these people (and felines) in my heart and on my mind, whatever their diagnoses. I&amp;#039;m one of the lucky ones: I made it through 2008 cancer-free, and for that, I&amp;#039;m relieved and grateful. If I can get through 2009 the same way, I&amp;#039;ll be downright dizzy and giddy. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/parenting/a20623/dizzy-and-giddy-to-be-cancer-free/?src=shelter_footer>