Sneak Peek: Dear Diary, Does This Cancer Make My Ass Look Fat?


Dear Diary Cover

Hey! Remember me?

My name’s Kim Tronic. Pardon me while I dust off this quaint piece of WordPress real estate.

There, that’s better.

By now, you’re probably aware that I had cancer. Stage Three. Ovarian. Lots of chemo. And several surgeries. Not my favorite two years.

You’re probably also aware that I wrote a book about my experience. I kept a journal from January 2017 to January 2018 and decided to publish it under the title, “Dear Diary, Does This Cancer Make My Ass Look Fat?”

Once I started editing the book, I found out I had a big tumor nestled inside my liver. As I slogged through Chemo 2.0 and liver surgery, it became too painful to edit a book about cancer while I battled cancer for the second time.

So I took a break and my manuscript collected cobwebs. I finished Chemo 2.0 in February 2019 and got a preventative double mastectomy six weeks later. The surgery itself went fine, but I developed an infection and had to be hospitalized for six days with round-the-clock IV antibiotics. Then, one of my tissue expanders ruptured and I needed another surgery to replace it.

Good times, right?

As I giggled at the absurdity of these events, my writing mojo seeped back in. I picked up the neglected manuscript after months of avoiding it. And now, with the health drama behind me and one final surgery on the horizon, I have a finished memoir! After reviewing a proof copy in the upcoming weeks, my baby will finally go on sale.

I’m so excited and honored to share my story with you. Here’s a little peek of the intro. And stay tuned for book release details!


Imagine waking up and hearing, “You have cancer.”

The first words I want to hear in the morning are, “Would you like a large coffee, or an extra extra extra large coffee?” I’m not in a mindset to deal with news about my health. Especially not news of this caliber. And especially not news that I’m totally, thoroughly, and unequivocally unprepared for.

It’s funny how three simple words can monumentally impact your life. That teeny little phrase, which takes only a moment to say, unleashes a tsunami of feelings, and instantly changes everything forever.

Even worse than getting the actual news was getting the news before my morning coffee. I would’ve been better equipped for the C-bomb had it gone like this:

Woman: Hey, Kim. Here’s your venti iced coffee with almond milk and stevia. I added the extra ice you asked for, too.

Me: Awesome, thanks!

Woman: No problem. Oh, I meant tell you….You have ovarian cancer.

Me: Really? That sucks. Did you also remember my reduced fat turkey bacon sandwich?

But that’s not how it went down. I had no coffee, no breakfast sandwich, and no quippy reply.

I don’t think anyone is ever prepared to hear the news. Once the C-bomb is detonated, you’re thrust into an alternate universe, forced to face sh*t and handle situations you never anticipated.

Everyone has his/her own coping mechanisms. Mine turned out to be a mixture of laughter, weird costumes, bright wigs, journaling, and spending hundreds of dollars on watermelon. I discovered that maintaining a sense of humor allowed me to battle this scary sh*t storm with a smile (most of the time).

My patience was tested, my dignity was stripped away, and my strength took a beating. I truly got my ass kicked. But I unearthed a whole fresh layer of resolve and pushed through seemingly insurmountable obstacles every day.

I hope you enjoy reading my story as much as I enjoyed living it. Well, actually, I f*cking hated living it, but shut up and keep reading.