Saving the Ta-Tas....

Do you really want to save something that's trying to kill you?  My husband and I have been wrestling with this decision for a few weeks. Well mostly I have been wrestling emotionally and well- you know how boys are with toys- especially when you threaten to take them away. They go out of their way to play with them to show you how valued they are. Yet that fact was never ever in doubt. If sheer love and affection could stave away cancer- my ta-tas would not only be safe- they would probably emit a cancer fighting aura. Yet that is not the reality.

The reality has been palpable for months. Mostly by me- obsessively with the express desire and hope the little lump that liked to become sensitive once a month would just fade away with the PMS. But it did not. When I could no longer ignore the lump in my arm, it was time to take action. Tomorrow we will know for sure. There are definite lumps, but tomorrow the pathology will let us know how evil those little lumps are.

It is a battle. I know damned well that early detection is key to survival. There are pink ribbons all over the world declaring that continuously. I get that. I feel also that breast cancer treatments , though lightyears better than even a decade ago- are.still. barbaric. Most cancer treatments are. You can give them the advanced feel with super advanced photon something no one can pronounce name- but my gut still is telling me- they aren't the answer. The problem is they are the only solutions right now. Or are they?

And I can once again attest that you honestly don't understand something until you experience it. So far this experience has pretty much sucked the big one and I haven't even gotten to the really ugly parts yet. I don't know how many times I have to say it- I don't really have to know everything- I'm ok with that.  It makes me feel no better whatsoever to know that hundreds of thousands of women have been through this and many more will join the journey before it gets easier or somehow goes away. 

Perhaps it's the enlightenment of my husband declaring- Holy cow! as he witnesses the extreme compression of my mammogram that drives home how there has got to be a better way. Or perhaps the extreme burning of the core biopsies in areas that apparently didn't take up the lidocaine . Or the repeated assault of the mammogram POST core biopsies that didn't take the lidocaine that make me doubt this whole process. Seeing the bright little lumps light up on the big fancy screen were some how simultaneously comforting(Thank God the whole darn thing isn't lighting up) and horrifying(Oh that's gonna be a big chunk of ta-ta that has to come out). As the biopsy , partially medicated proves- I am a wimp when it comes to pain. Coming home and looking at post lumpectomy pictures- probably not a good plan either. Then I go back to trying to be positive- they can be replaced- I cannot be. And my grandmother's words keep lurking in the back of my mind- it could be worse.  Part of the problem is knowing that the worst is no where near from over. And as my uncle told me in his infinite wisdom and many years spent past the dead zone- when it gets really bad- just think that somewhere right now someone is to the point of tears because they have a flat tire, or a zit or their eggs were over medium instead of over hard and it is what we make of it. But then again, he pointed out it also reminds us that most people don't have a clue. Some days it seems it would be a little easier not having one.