What’s Missing

From the last post is the emotive content – from the time I found the lump, I’ve been terrified, off and on. When I was told it was probably malignant, and I called my sister to tell her, I couldn’t speak. I’ve had to tell so many people by now (though I’m waiting to tell my parents until the results from tomorrow’s biopsies come back, and I know what’s going on) and it *is* getting easier, but it’s not easy. It’s never easy.

I weep off and on; I wake up some mornings weeping. I fear mutilation. I fear the loss. The effects of the drugs on my pretty pink cerebellum. I can’t give blood again. I am going to miss this summer; I am going to miss Scotland. I’m not going to be able to do anything for a while, and I have so very much to do.

And it hurts…. not just emotionally, but physically – my left breast, flank, and arm ache; throb; sting. I thought cancer wasn’t supposed to hurt, I thought it was supposed to be slower. It’s all happening so fast.

I have so much to do before the 11th, when surgery is scheduled. There’s so much I want to do, there’s so much I have to do – loose ends to tie up and projects to finish, packages to send. Shall I at least set my house in order? Which reminds me that not only is there the house to set in order, but there’s extensive damage from an ice dam over the winter that needs to be dealt with.

If tomorrow’s biopsies come back negative, I get to keep my breast – if not,  then I’ll need a mastectomy. Sentinel lymph nodes will be taken during surgery. It’s big scary potatoes. If I’m very lucky, I get to keep my breast and go through a minimum of nine months or so of hell. It’s all happening so fast. 

Also seeing my mom through breast cancer 4 years ago, and knowing what the road is like… hard lines, hard lines. I’m guessing I’m Stage 2a already, based on tumor size, and only if everything else is clear.

I will make it through, I’ve really no doubt on that – I’d really like to make it through with as much of my breast intact as possible. And please don’t talk about reconstruction – I don’t want a useless plastic Barbie boob. It’s not just vanity, it’s that my breasts are a huge erogenous zone.. it’d be like someone telling you they were going to take away a third of your penis glans, but they could rebuild so it looked ok…..sorta.

Not really the same as the original, it doesn’t *work*. And this is visible…

So, send the energy out for me, please… it’s still going to be a good nine months of hell (and house construction as well.. fml), if not longer, but I would like this small (and let’s face it, it is *small*- never been a *big* girl) concession. I want to keep my breasts. They’re mine. I made them.

And if needs must, I’ll survive.

What I do NOT want from anyone is any blame. O, and any one calling this a “gift” or “opportunity for growth” or reminding me of all the valuable things I’ll take out of the experience or *anything* similar in tone or feeling* – I can still break your fingers, just remember that.

That would be a lovely opportunity for growth… really, think of it as a *gift*.

It’s really going to suck, I’ll be ok, but it’s going to suck big time. It already does.

*I heard all of these sorts of things when mom had cancer, and in similar situations… and while it may be meant well, it’s just adding insult to injury. I know I’m going to hear some of them, but I’m doing my best on pre-emptive warnings. And I’m sure there will be good mixed with the crap – there always is- but it’s still crap. On the whole, I’d rather be in Philadelphia.

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