It’s taken a long time (8 years to be exact) to even think about chronicling my journey. I always knew I would write this the way I write everything else…. from the voice of one of my deranged personalities. I see things from a different lens. Cancer sucks. No way around that. You think you are immune to such things. Until you aren’t. And then it literally feels like someone raped you and you don’t even remember how it happened. At least that’s how it felt for me. No one in my family had cancer. I was 42 and pretty much healthy. I was in good shape. Aside from a little tryst here and there with vino and some less than desirable food choices. Cancer doesn’t care. You can suck down kale, run marathons, and eat quinoa until it’s coming out of your ass. Cancer doesn’t care. It’s the one thing in this world that truly does not discriminate. It takes one rogue cell and your body’s inability to identify it. That’s it. And if you think it can never happen to you….
Like most things in my life, there’s always a good story to go with whatever is trying to kill me at any given moment. I AM the person who trips over nothing, falls in a pile of dog poo and gets a concussion while doing it. Hello there. Literally everyday life around here. So, like a good little egg I started getting a mammogram at 41 as per gyno Dr. Hottie To clarify, he looks like one of those 80’s TV stars with the chiseled chin, strong face and distinguished grey hair. Not that I noticed or anything. To be clear…. he told me to get a mammo at 40. Since I was still dealing with being 40, I decided it could wait. He scolded me at my next well baby checkup, so I relented. Didn’t want to disappoint Dr. Hottie. The first mammo went fine. Squish boobs and wait for someone to tell you what’s in there. Done. Being the pleaser person I am, I went back again at 42. And this is where the shit hit the fan….
So, it’s always a good time when you think you are going in for a routine mammo and it takes a little longer than it should. But you aren’t scared bcs what could possibly go wrong? No family history and healthy. Check check. They released me without a word, so I assumed all was well in Tittyville. Then I got “a” call. Not “the” call. Just “a” call. They thought they saw something, but it was too small to see if it was anything of concern. Probably just dense breast tissue but let’s do it again in 6 months to be sure. Fine. Literally every single woman in America is told she has dense breast tissue. Not sure how that’s possible with my original set of -AAA’s but I’m not a Dr. so fine. We will squeeze again in January. I went on about my business with little to no thought about the parasitic twin growing inside me. Even Dr. Hottie told me not to worry in his “hot voice”- …lots of testosterone and authority…. aka hot. Fast forward to January of 2015….I’d rather not, lest we must…
Back to Squeezeville. I was working that day and I was busy. I’m always busy. There was this part of me that said, “You do not have time for this appointment. Just reschedule it. It’s nothing anyway.” Had I listened to my busy self, I would be typing this from the grave. True story. So, I went back…. huffing and puffing about dumb Dr.’s and why they can’t see things the first-time blah blah blah. I’m such a peach like that. I find the scanner people super interesting. They must feel the laser beam eyes on them when they do what they do. We need to know what they know. They are like the freakin CIA. Not a word or facial expression for fear of giving something away. I don’t care. I stared and glared anyway. Throw me a bone bitch. Well, this one did. Score…or not. She said (and I remember it like it was yesterday), “Do you feel the lump?” Um sorry what? The Lump. As if were an entity. I told her I was not familiar with said lump. Please make the introduction. She did as asked and showed me where it was on the scan. Good times. Since I had no idea what separated a good lump from a bad one, this information was not at all helpful. Then she reverted to CIA mode, telling me not to panic. These things are often nothing. The Dr. would read it and get back to me. Is it me or am I always waiting on a freakin’ Dr. to tell me something. Not ideal.
So, I went home to wait. You’ll find out later, cancer is all about waiting. And it sucks. I had to go home and tell my (now) husband I had some random lump living in my boob and they don’t know what it is. He assured me it was nothing like any good husband would. Dr. Hottie even gave me a call to tell me (and I literally quote) “The odds are overwhelming in your favor it’s nothing.” I’ve since learned when someone tells you this…run. I called some of my close friends to tell them what was going on. It should be noted, up to this point I never even thought to feel “the lump.” Weird right? More like denial, I’m sure. While I was talking to one of my friends, she asked me if I found it, or “they” did. That’s when it hit me…. I never even stopped to feel around for it. I saw it on the screen and assumed it was buried so deep I couldn’t feel it. While I was on the phone with her, I started feeling around. Bam! There it was. On my left boob, inside all the way over by my rib cage. It was squishy and kind of hard and soft at the same time. Ok this is when shit got real. Why had I not thought to feel it? I guess I just assumed it couldn’t be seen by the naked eye. Now the waiting seemed like forever. You wonder why they can’t just read the freakin scan already. Dr. Hottie said he would call me as soon as they called him. While I was waiting, I thought I better call my Dad. I know…. why didn’t I call Mother? I know Mortitia too well. She would panic, not sleep and stress even more than I was. I am her perfect child after all. My Dad and I have a deal… no emotions. So, I was like “Hey Dad I have some rando lump in my boob. Don’t know what it is. Will let you know when I know. Don’t tell Mom.” He agreed. I could tell he was worried but not “stress me out” worried. I did a good job selling him on the “It’s probably nothing” even though I wasn’t so sure of that myself….
I got a call from Dr. Hotties’s nurse saying he’d left the office for the day, but he took my file home and would call me later. No good could come of that. Hubby and I had a hot dinner and a movie date planned and I wasn’t about to make it a threesome. What choice did I have? This was the news I was waiting for. The news that would set me free. “The odds were overwhelming in my favor it was nothing.” Or not. All through dinner I was nervous and watching my phone. There are very few occasions where I can’t eat. Very few. This was one. We managed to get through dinner without a call. I was thinking to myself, “What the hell is he waiting for? Does he want to call me so late he gets VM and avoid telling me what I’m pretty sure I know?” Dr. Hottie was wearing my nerves out! We proceed to the movies. I was too shaky to eat popcorn. I LOVE popcorn. To not eat popcorn at a movie is a crime in my book. We ordered it anyway and took it to our seats. I knew I was going to play the role of annoying person whose phone rings in a movie, but I didn’t care. I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, it rang. I dashed out of the movie so quickly I don’t think anyone even heard it ring. I stepped outside of the theatre and leaned my back against the wall. I remember trying to be upbeat but I’m not sure what I said. I know this…. Dr. Hottie did not waste time telling me what I already knew….”You have Breast Cancer.” I could feel in his voice it was as hard for him to say it as it was for me to hear it.
Well fuck! I slid down the wall until I was seated on the floor. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get up bcs my legs failed me at that moment. File this under the heading “Shit that only happens to me,” ….. I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer while watching American Sniper. I couldn’t have been watching Sound of Music or Dirty Dancing. No. Baby was officially in the corner. Death, destruction and cancer. So, I had to pick myself up off the floor, go back in there and tell my husband I had cancer. Not an ideal sitch. He looked at me and said, “Is everything ok?” With my head staring straight at the screen I said, “Nope. I have breast cancer.” He asked if I wanted to leave. I remember saying no. I just needed a minute to sit still and process…while watching American Sniper. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to be still and make it go away.
…to be continued…
*** interesting authors note: I had to go back several times and correct the “tense” of my story. To this day it’s still so real to me that I often speak in present tense even after 8 years. If I missed anything, that’s why***