With the help of a lovely group of friends, I have renamed my murderous right boob. Instead of Righty, as I have been (un)lovingly calling it all this time, my right boob is now named Sideshow Boob.
My boob wants to kill me, like Sideshow Bob wants to kill Bart Simpson. I hope my boob is as inept at murder as Sideshow Bob is (was? I haven't watched Simpsons in years....). That being said, I'm not too worried about what the hospital is going to tell me tomorrow. First of all, I can't control what may or may not happen to me. If I have cancer again, then there is nothing that I can do to stop it or reverse it.
Second, I'm confident in my treatment. My doctors threw everything but the sink at me. My radiation oncologist, aka Duke Nuke'Em, did two different boosts on Sideshow Boob. While I think the Allegheny General Hospital sucks at their record keeping and other issues, I don't think that I received sub-par care. I doubt that a new primary or reoccurence would happen so soon after treatment.
Still, I'm working from home tomorrow. If I get bad news, then I don't want to break down at work. Nobody wants to be that girl. Ew.