Pygmy Amazon Women

The organization needs a logo. I blogged earlier that Amazon women cut off their right breasts for greater strength. I'm too short to be a true Amazon so I thought I'd form a group called Pygmy Amazon Women.

As I said to my housemate

Bubble wrap will no longer be popable. I can deal with losing my breast. But not bring able to take my frustrations out with a pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop...

I never wanted a sequel

I never wanted to have breast cancer twice. I didn't want it once. I know as a writer, blogging keeps me sane. I wrote several of the following blogs as it was happening and I'll publish them in the order they were written. I wanted to wait until I knew for sure, had a game plan and notified the people I loved who read my blogs so they wouldn't see the news on line. I will continue to blog. We are heading to Geneva tomorrow and I have an appointment with the same surgeon as before on Monday to get those little suckers out of my body.


I spent a few minutes this morning in front of the mirror staring at my naked chest. One breast if normal, the other has a scar over a nipple.

The week has been turbulent since two "Nodules" were found. I've had my blood test, the appointments for the biopsy and a MRI/IRM.

The idea of facing another cancer round is upsetting at best. I had done so well on the first. Not only is it documented in this blog I published a book to give to other anglophone breast cancer patients who might be scared of facing things in their second language or in a language they don't understand.

My housemate faced the same thing, lost the breast but needed no follow up chemo.

It is not losing the breast that scares me. I was flat chested so much of my life it is not a problem.

It's the chemo that scares me.

With the first bout my housemate J was incredible supportive. I hope I was supportive of her. I wish there were no need to be supportive.

My new husband says it doesn't matter that I might lose a breast. I'm not my breasts.

If it is cancer again, I want those evil little cells out and they can take the tissue around them too.

Stop annoying me cancer. Once was enough.

2 good things

1. K. Messages me asking how I slept. I've slept better since talking to her. The crazies were held in bay.

2. My daughter will be in Ocean Grove this weekend with her surrogate aunts if/when I have to tell her. It will give her immediate support if it is bad news.

Tea with K at Hostalet. She has just had the all clear on her cancer. The boys bring a timer so we can decide how long we steep our tea.

I ask her how she had the courage to do a nontraditional treatment. She replied she didn't have the courage not to.

K is fantastic. She finds beauty in a raindrop and grabs life with force. Someone called her a Fruit Loop in a bowl of Cheerios. It's a complement.

She always seemed to brave. I asked her how she maintained it and she admitted she lost it in the middle of the night. It is as if she gives me the right for my 2 a.m. crazies, a product of my imagination. Both of us are over imaginative. This is a gift wrapped up with paper and bow.

Support

I need to tell my housemate about the biopsy because of inter-twinning plans that have deadlines.

She went through the same things a couple of years back, a second bout and loss of a breast.

"I don't mind losing a breast, I dread the thought of chemo."

"Unless you insist on keeping the breast and removing the lumps they don't do chemo or radiation." She does  add that lymph node involvement might change that.

"It doesn't really hurt.

I remember how quickly she bounced back almost as if she'd just gone to the dentist for a filling under Novocaine. She hated that she couldn't drive and did before she should but only because I nearly knocked myself out on a car door.

I feel better talking to her. She wrote." There is still hope and again even if, you'll be in Geneva, you'll have
Rick and me and you'll get on with it and have a lovely life even after!"

I'm not alone.

The biopsy

The woman at the hospital information desk stared at my appointment card. "Wrong hospital" she said in French.

I asked directions for the right hospital, but she wasn't particularly interested in telling me. However, her co-worker was. She asked that we wait. Soon a second woman came out.

"For the translation," the nice woman said in French.

 I realized that the translator was a hand-held device in a pretty pink, not a person who spoke English.

"French is fine," I told her.

Her face lit up.

The women told us clearly the route and we wrote down what they said. Her assistant printed out a Google Map and we were on our way.

Because we had allowed time we arrived a few minutes before our scheduled time by a hair.

Unlike in Geneva I was expected to bring my own anesthetic, which I had purchased at the pharmacy.

On the wall of the room where they were going to do the biopsy, was a print of bags of colored powdered in my favorite colors of purples, blues and roses. For the tenth time that day I wished I remembered my camera. On the way to the wrong hospital were many great photographic possibilities. we can go back.

This biopsy was only different in that they took samples from my two nodules. One is very close to where my last tumor was. The other is closer to my armpit and that gives me worry.

I don't mind losing a breast. I don't want chemo.

I try and tell those little bastards to stay in their little capsules.

The doctor was attractive maybe late thirties.

I asked several questions which she seemed to ignore until I repeated them. It didn't seem like a language problem.

I'll have the results June 29. It seems a long way away.