A lot is going on in Laraland during this week. I have my first appointment with the radiation oncologist on Tuesday, a follow-up appointment with a surgeon who specializes in thyroids on Wednesday, and then a consultation with an oncology surgeon who specializes in breasts on Thursday. On top of all of this, I'm allegedly getting a fence installed on my property. I say allegedly because the jagoff contractors said they'd be coming three days ago and informed me (after I called THEM) that no, they are coming this coming Tuesday or Wednesday. If they don't come this week, then I'm unleashing so much rage onto someone.
I really hope the radiation oncologist, who has yet to be nicknamed obviously, can let me know when I'm going to start radiation. I want to start treatment yesterday. I know I should be grateful that I have this time off to rest and recuperate. I am, but I really want to know the end date. I think knowing the end date to all this cancer crap would make the waiting game a lot less excruciating. It seems like a good 20 or 30 percent of my life since being diagnosed has been waiting. So yes, I am very anxious about Tuesday's appointment because once I know the end date and what the onco thinks I can and cannot handle, then I'm just one step closer to The End.
The consultations with the thyroid surgeon and the breast surgeon are also big ones. My thyroid has to come out. When I was getting my mammogram done last year, I was also getting tests done on my thyroid. I have six nodules on it - five being hot and one being cold. Or maybe it's vice versa. Whatever, one of the nodules is suspicious for cancer, so I want this body part to GTFO of my body.
I'm also seeing a breast surgeon to discuss if I ever come to the point I want to have a double mastectomy. I never really talked with a specialist about that or my options in general. I'm a couple of weeks away from turning 31 and I'm wondering what I have to do to make sure I live to see 40. If it means taking my boobs and living the rest of my life as a No Cup, then so be it. At least I'd be alive. I'm optimistic that my aggressive treatment beat the snot out of my cancer but I'm also realistic. I'm the daughter of a woman who fought a five-year battle with this disease and died a couple weeks shy of her 41st birthday. I have to do what I can to make sure I live much longer than her.