Wednesday, March 21, 2012

The end is nigh

For my boobs, that is.  Not me.  This morning I received a call from my surgeon, which immediately sent my anxiety into a titter.  I thought her nurse would be calling me, so when I heard the surgeon's voice on the other line, I panicked pretty hard.  Oh sweet heaven, I'm dying.  She's telling me I'm dying!

Nope, I'm not dying.  My awesome surgeon wanted to explain the complicated results of the biopsies of Lefty and Sideshow Boob.  Like always, everything is okay with Lefty and Sideshow Boob is the problem one.  Effin Sideshow Boob.  She explained that I have a "hodge podge" of stuff in the right breast (of course!).  When you hear your surgeon say "hodge podge," that doesn't inspire any good feelings.  I knew as soon as she said that where the conversation was heading.

The troublesome aspect of the right breast was the presence of atypical hyperplasia.  What that means is that  the rogue cells in Sideshow Boob aren't done with me yet.  The fact that precancerous or cancer precursors, however you want to say it, are present so soon after treatment does not bode well with me or my anxiety.  

The surgeon said she wants to do a lumpectomy of the tissue, though I mentioned how another lumpectomy would just make Sideshow Boob look like a lumpy pile of supposed breast.  She said that I should consult with a plastic surgeon to discuss my options.  We did touch on a bilateral mastectomy and what my options were regarding that.  She wanted me to really think about it and explore my options before coming to the very final decision of removing both of my breasts.  

I'm leaning toward that decision.  I can't keep waiting for the bomb to drop that cancer has once again invaded my breasts.  I really think a mastectomy is the only way for me to live the rest of my life without the constant fear and anxiety that this mother effer is going to come back bigger, badder and bringing its friends (also known as mets).  My boobs have been with me for 20 years (I developed early, much to my chagrin).  I can live the rest of my life without them if that means my odds of having a long, rest of my life are greater.  

I've said it before and I will say it again, I will not die for my boobs.  No saving the tatas.  Just me.  I want to live.  

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