DEC 4 — I have cancer.
At least, that’s what my biopsy revealed.
Now I have yet more tests to do, including a PET scan, to figure out just how far my cancer has progressed and how I should proceed treatment-wise.
Am I terrified? Of course I am.
Fear has never really stopped me from doing things (except maybe from visiting possibly haunted malls) because the more afraid I am of doing something, the more I push myself to move forward.
Otherwise, I’d probably still be afraid of sleeping in the dark.
The nice thing about getting cancer in my 40s is I’m past caring about things like losing a breast.
A mastectomy is unfortunately unavoidable in my case and my doctor asked if I wanted a reconstruction.
No thank you, I said.
I’m thinking long-term; I don’t want it to be difficult to detect the cancer if it returns, and after 45 years of having a decent rack, I will just say thank you and goodbye, I will not miss having F cups.
While I was calm in the waiting room and getting the news from my doctor, having to text people about the news made me cry.
I so desperately wanted to give them good news.
Still, I also felt better sharing the weight of it all because carrying it all myself is something I know I cannot bear.
It’s something no one should bear alone.
If life is a story, cancer is but a scary chapter of mine, and I’m just going to keep turning the pages and be grateful that friends and family have been wonderfully supportive throughout.
Here’s to pressing on and hoping that I can give this tale a good ending.
