Love Me: I was living with my boyfriend of two years when I found the lump and was diagnosed with stage three, triple negative breast cancer. I thought he was the love of my life, and according to him, I was his too. We planned a future together, and we looked forward to growing old together. Then came the diagnosis, and things changed; I changed, he changed, our relationship changed. During chemotherapy, I was certainly not myself: fear, poison and steroids pumped through my veins; I knew it was only temporary, but the end of temporary seemed an eternity. My boyfriend couldn't be bothered with my neediness, and we often dodged each other's bullets. After my mastectomy, with drains still in place, my "One" decided he was done and gave me ten days to move out of his home. Hence, love me till I'm me again. I wasn't myself during breast cancer treatment. I'm not myself now either; I'm stronger, braver, better.