I came home from November Paris attacks to a letter from the Mary Ellen Locher Breast Center . . . mammogram on November 11 . . . abnormality . . we would like you to return in six to twelve months. The next day, a nurse called to inform me that I needed to come in STAT. Poor lady–she was more shaken up than I was.
We sent you the wrong letter.
I reported the next day for a second mammogram and ultrasound. I’ve seen cancer before. When I read that 75-80% of these findings are negative, I knew I’d not be in the favored percentile.
A full mastectomy and phase 1 of reconstruction was complete on March 23.
Today, after a grueling night shift, my husband told me of the surgeon’s call:
Left breast, invasive cancer. 1.8cm. entire breast DCIS entered into the left nipple. Lymph node, 3-4 cells. Herceptin. Tumor board meets today.
I don’t remember, but he told me I said,
Well, let’s do this.
I haven’t posted in … over a year. Because I didn’t learn my lessons well. My borderline mother died and set me free, so I invited my MIL with an even bigger dose of BPD to build a house on my hard earned 16 acres and make me a slave again. The lesson I finally learned: BPDs want to occupy every square inch of your mind. Do you have four children? Tough shit. Do you have breast cancer? Sucks to be you, sucker. Did you survive the terrorist attack in Paris? Oh, how terrible! You deserve it because you are the cause of all my suffering. Did you have to undergo a full mastectomy? Too bad. I will mentally abuse you, your spouse, you kids, and any chump who dares to ignore my supremacy. Go “no contact” with her for 6 months? Fine, I’ll marry a naive redneck who doesn’t have any idea about what is going to hit him in the nuts. That’ll show y’all.
transparentsy 