It's easy to be brave during the day (or, cancer sucks)
I am 44, and I was supposed to be starting my life over after a divorce that devastated me. Instead, I was diagnosed with breast cancer on 7/15/11, hormone responsive, in my milk ducts and infiltrating the breast tissue. The mammogram didn't find it, I did. There was a lump in May. We did a course of antibiotics. The pain and redness went away, the lump stayed. It was the size of a pea. I had an ultrasound. There were "suspicious findings" but nothing definitive. On to the ultrasound guided biopsy. Back came the news: cancer. I freaked out. I ranted. I cried. I thought about making a deal with God, but didn't think I deserved His consideration because I didn't fight for my marriage because he was having an affair. I prayed anyway: "Please don't take me from B. He needs a parent who puts him first. He's only 8." I don't know if God heard. I don't understand why this is happening to me. I lost a good friend to this disease at a young age, so this is scary. I also think she was looking out for me because I was pretty inconsistent with my monthly self exams, especially after the Feb. mammogram that said everything was within normal limits, no need to come back until a year had passed. LADIES-DO YOUR MONTHLY CHECKS. If I hadn't, this would have gone undetected for a very long time. I don't know if it's been caught early enough, but it seems it may have been.
I joke. I play it down. But I had an MRI to see what was going on with the other breast. That one was clear, but there were 2 or 3 nodes swollen on the MRI. My doctor said she didn't know if they were swollen because of the needle biopsy or if the cancer spread there. I'm hoping it's the former because, deep down, in that part I keep closest to me and me only, I am scared. The only thing scarier than this was not hearing my baby cry when he first arrived in this world, seeing his gray skin and watch helplessly watching the resuscitation team (without my glasses, without which I can't see 5 feet in front of me) revive him and pink him up in the delivery room. And now he is 8, and he is the best kid in the world. I don't want this disease to take me from him. I don't want him to be stuck with his crappy excuse for a father, who is not even a good uncle. First the divorce that blindsided me, then my knee(surgery fixed that, thankfully, although it'll never be 100% again) and now this. What am I supposed to learn from this? What am I supposed to be teaching others? Taking a philosophical approach is not working for me. I will be lopping off the traitor boob Friday, but then I will have to wait for reconstruction, probably until the end of the school year. Will I be strong enough to look at myself in the mirror and face the decision I made daily as I get ready to go to work? Will I be strong enough to ease my son's fears while keeping mine locked up deep inside so I can?
The warrior in me says hell yeah! She tells me I am going to beat this bitch back to where she came from. I think I believe her. I have to believe her. Cancer sucks.Physically, I feel okay right now, and I will feel okay later, after I've given her the hell she deserves.
Of course, it's much easier to believe all this when I am awake and my subconscious can't take over my brain and worry about everything that causes me stress, like the ex who wants to raise my rent (and tells me this today! Today, a week before I have a mastectomy...)
Anyway...
Cancer sucks. It has invaded my life for years. My dad has cancer (his grows slowly). My aunt has had cancer. My mother's cousin's wife is a 15 year breast cancer survivor, but now it has returned. My best friend. These are the survivors I admire. I hope I can be as brave as they were during their battles. Then there are those who lost, too many of them to list. I know they are all pulling for me to stomp this bitch into the ground becasue this has given "personal" a whole new meaning... you're going down bitch!!!!this has given "personal" a whole new meaning... you're going down cancer!!!!
I joke. I play it down. But I had an MRI to see what was going on with the other breast. That one was clear, but there were 2 or 3 nodes swollen on the MRI. My doctor said she didn't know if they were swollen because of the needle biopsy or if the cancer spread there. I'm hoping it's the former because, deep down, in that part I keep closest to me and me only, I am scared. The only thing scarier than this was not hearing my baby cry when he first arrived in this world, seeing his gray skin and watch helplessly watching the resuscitation team (without my glasses, without which I can't see 5 feet in front of me) revive him and pink him up in the delivery room. And now he is 8, and he is the best kid in the world. I don't want this disease to take me from him. I don't want him to be stuck with his crappy excuse for a father, who is not even a good uncle. First the divorce that blindsided me, then my knee(surgery fixed that, thankfully, although it'll never be 100% again) and now this. What am I supposed to learn from this? What am I supposed to be teaching others? Taking a philosophical approach is not working for me. I will be lopping off the traitor boob Friday, but then I will have to wait for reconstruction, probably until the end of the school year. Will I be strong enough to look at myself in the mirror and face the decision I made daily as I get ready to go to work? Will I be strong enough to ease my son's fears while keeping mine locked up deep inside so I can?
The warrior in me says hell yeah! She tells me I am going to beat this bitch back to where she came from. I think I believe her. I have to believe her. Cancer sucks.Physically, I feel okay right now, and I will feel okay later, after I've given her the hell she deserves.
Of course, it's much easier to believe all this when I am awake and my subconscious can't take over my brain and worry about everything that causes me stress, like the ex who wants to raise my rent (and tells me this today! Today, a week before I have a mastectomy...)
Anyway...
Cancer sucks. It has invaded my life for years. My dad has cancer (his grows slowly). My aunt has had cancer. My mother's cousin's wife is a 15 year breast cancer survivor, but now it has returned. My best friend. These are the survivors I admire. I hope I can be as brave as they were during their battles. Then there are those who lost, too many of them to list. I know they are all pulling for me to stomp this bitch into the ground becasue this has given "personal" a whole new meaning... you're going down bitch!!!!this has given "personal" a whole new meaning... you're going down cancer!!!!