The night before my mastectomy, I had done my best to keep my mind off of the impending procedure. My family and I went to the Tampa Bay Lightning hockey game, where I binged on pizza and ice cream and took full advantage of the doctor's advice to eat up the night before since I had to begin fasting at midnight.
Rather than embracing mainstream, majority-held positions, 2020 Democratic presidential candidates have made it exceedingly clear that they will sacrifice themselves on the altar of the radical left - endorsing positions held by a select few and fueling an unstoppable tailwind behind President Trump's reelection.
Perhaps the seemingly never-ending quest by Democrats to delegitimize the will of the American people and the election of Trump as president was really designed to distract from what we now know to be true: In 2016, the only presidential campaign that colluded with foreign nationals, Russia included, was the Clinton campaign.
On the morning of May 1, 2018, I woke up knowing that the day I had anticipated for nine years had finally arrived. It was the day of my preventative double mastectomy - the day I would attack my BRCA 2 genetic mutation head-on and take my chances of breast cancer from 84 percent to virtually zero.