I Have Cancer

Finally, the excuse I’ve been waiting for, to indulge my anxiety and depression, eat however much I want of whatever I want, and receive pity and presents from my favorite people. Dream come true.

Haha, just kidding. Except for the cancer part. I do have cancer. Just found out today for sure. I’ve personally known since the beginning of October though. It’s breast cancer. Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. I discovered a lump on my right beast (not a typo) one night while I was lying in bed, giving myself a manual exam.

I have Rosie O’Donnell to thank for that. She was a big proponent of “The Buddy System” back in the day, where you pick a lady friend and call them up on the phone once a month to see if they’ve done their breast exam. I remember so clearly because I was just starting to develop my own little knockers at the time, and figured I should go ahead and start watching after them. I don’t remember if I found a buddy or not. Probably not. Anyway, to this day, I’ll just randomly give myself little Rosie O’Boobie checks, just to make sure they’re still rock hard and perfect. TMI? I don’t think so.

In fact, let me tell you more about how perfect my ladies are. They’re so humble, they would never tell you themselves. My right ma’am is bigger than my leftie. I’m still not sure how cup sizes work, but she might be a whole size bigger. Instead of feeling insecure about this, I’ve always thought it gave them personality.

I have named them throughout the years, but no name ever sticks. Maybe it’s because they’re so much a part of me, I can’t separate them from my self. They’ve always been with me– encouraging little bags of cheer. When I’m in a deep and damaging depression, the perk of my gals gives me a wink of hope. I mean, I can’t be all dead when the life of the party is sitting on my chest! Okay, I’ll stop talking about my bosoms now. Just know, they are perfect.

So……. yes, I found the lump, and somehow knew immediately that it was cancer. I don’t know how I knew, but I really knew. Ask anyone I talked to that early on. I was positive from the get-go. And I find that very strange. Like, I don’t know anything. And I’m totally fine with that (most of the time). The fact that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I had cancer right then… well, it’s a puzzle that I’m definitely interested in putting together someday.

I scheduled an appointment to get the thing looked at by my gynecologist, the AMAZING Brandy Mitchell. She gave it a few squishes and said, “It’s really good you came in.” Not promising. She then scheduled me to get a mammogram and ultrasound… in two weeks… those days crawled by!

I couldn’t help myself from telling some people about my ordeal during the wait. It felt like something that needed to be shared, so I reached out to a few of my close friends, and if you’re reading this, thank you for letting me burden you with my anxiety. And get ready, because I’m probably going to burden you with more soon. Sorry. And thank you. And sorry.

The mammogram–– which, oh by the way, was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, I almost passed out–– was inconclusive, because my girls are dense af. Which I always thought was a good thing (perky!), but I guess it’s something like fertile ground for cancer? I don’t know, I’m sure I’ll learn more about that in the coming days/weeks. Damn, that mammogram was painful tho! I can’t believe I have to get one of those every year from now on! Unless the girls have to go, which would suck so bad I don’t want to think about it.

The ultrasound was very cool though. Very fun. It showed clearly what was there, and the next day I came in to get an ultrasound-guided biopsy. Which was also cool as hell. They numbed me up and jabbed a hollow needle (which I opted out of seeing) into my poor sweet bub, then fished around with a biopsy-taker-thing until they had five good samples. It was honestly such a blast to get to watch it all happen on the ultrasound monitor. 10/10 would recommend.

The toxicology results took several days to get back. They just arrived this morning. I’m going to meet with a surgeon at 7:30 tomorrow (Tuesday) morning, to discuss things. I’ll also be talking with other people about other things. It was a lot of information to digest while I was watching a toddler this morning, but I’m sure it’ll all get sorted out in the morning.

If I understand correctly, they’re still waiting on two test results from toxicology (I believe one is for the BRCA gene), and depending on what they are, I’ll either get scheduled for surgery immediately, or I might have to decide whether I want to go ahead and lop off both boobs at the same time to avoid BRCA problems down the road. NOT looking forward to that decision. I think I mentioned earlier, my boobies are perfect.

Several of you have asked how I’m feeling, so I guess I’ll talk about that here too. But to be honest, I’m having a really hard time figuring out what I’m feeling. I do have a tendency to be excited when I’m supposed to be afraid, and afraid when I’m supposed to be excited. I think we all probably have some of that, but… yeah, if I’m being really transparent, I guess I do feel a tiny bit excited. This is something happening in my life, after all. So rarely does anything ever happen to me, I’m tempted to feel… something like relief? Life might be more interesting and shorter than I’d hoped! I’m being facetious, obviously, but there’s a drop of honesty in there.

I feel really bad for disrupting friends’ and families’ lives. I never want to do that, especially for personal reasons. It’s going to suck real hard, if I have to ask for days off, help with anything, etc.

I think another real thing I’m feeling is that I don’t know if I’m up to the challenge of being one of those Rock-Star-Cancer-Fightin’-Betches that’s always humble and always giving, and makes everyone around them feel good, and everyone feels so sorry for them but so proud and so uplifted by them at the same time.

From my very limited encounters, it seems to me like cancer has a way of making people stronger and better than they were before, if they survive it. And I’m just afraid that’s not going to be my story. I’m afraid I’m just going to be stuck in depression and self-pity throughout the whole thing, which probably feeds the cancer, and if I do survive, I’ll be bitter and lonely without my lady lumps.

Okay, so I guess I knew a little of how I felt. It’s pretty gross, real stuff coming up. I’m slightly embarrassed, but I feel like I should get a pass. Who knows what the hell this whole thing is going to be like. I know a few things, and I’m going to hang on them. Here, I’ll list them for you, so we’ll both know.

1. Adam is my rock, because
2. Love is actually my rock, and
3. We love each other.
4. I have friends and family who love me too, and
5. No matter how bad it gets, I can rely on love– whether giving or receiving– to get me through.

Okie dokie, I need to get off the computer. Feel free to love me, here, on Facebook, in person, etc. I think I probably need it more than I’m letting on. Thanks for reading guys.