boobies.
(warning: *possible-NSFW/TMI selfie a bit after the jump)
now that i have your full attention:
some of you already know of my health tribulations, as well as my hatred for the color pink. you may also be aware of the fact that my past biopsies all came back the same; i have noncancerous fibroadenomas. the first lump i found is now gone. i can't remember if i had it excised or if it went away on its own. you'd think something like that would stick in my mind, but it didn't. regardless, the little bastard's gone, & i'm glad for it. the second one, however, the jick* that first made its appearance in january 2012, is still there, & it hurts.
this past september, my highly qualified APRN at mercy hospital told me that this cyst was no occasion to lose sleep. though it was twice the size of its predecessor, it posed no great risk, so long as i monitored it closely & had regular mammograms. i asked if i should get tested for the mutant breast genes**, & she said that it likely wasn't necessary, since the occurrence of breast cancer in the family was limited. i've trusted j.w. with my breast health (& thus, in a way, with my life), but her recommendation still doesn't sit well with me. i've asked about this every visit, & every time, she's said i don't need it.
i've tried to ignore this bitch of a tumor (& yes, it is a tumor), but i can't. it's slightly bigger than normal, a fact that's impossible to forget. further, there are days when i feel the it without even touching my body. if my breast is tender for any reason, as it is today, the lump aches. a lot. sometimes, it reddens, & the offending regions become visible.
1) the fibroadenoma marks me. maybe i'm the only one who can see it. maybe i'm just angry that it won't go away. maybe i'm afraid that someday, it will turn against me. the family history looms large enough to make room for this fear.
2) the scar from the core needle biopsy hasn't faded, though nearly fourteen months have passed since the procedure was done. at the very least, it hasn't faded enough for my tastes. or sanity.
honesty: i want a lumpectomy. i want the cyst gone. i want it out of my body & out of my mind. &, though it sounds beyond extreme, if the rate of cyst formation keeps up, i can see myself getting a double mastectomy & electing to have reconstructive surgery, God & finances willing. i can't handle this. it terrifies me, & as we all know very well, i'm quite the melodramatic coward. true, this physiological bullshit provides precious fodder for expression, &, as a writer, i should thus recognize it for the gold it's worth, but come on. i can only handle so much inspiration.
my heart goes out to those women & men whose biopsies don't turn out so well &/or come too late. our fears run in the same vein, but my anxieties get to stop at a certain point. those brave patients actually have to answer the questions i've been able to deflect:
i don't lose sleep, i don't cry in the shower once a month as i do my self-check, & i don't forget that i'm still relatively healthy. & i don't really have a conclusion to these thoughts. there are too many facets to allow for a final perspective, & the composition of my body & my life is ever changing. the only knowledge i really have is this: someday, it may finally be cut from my flesh, but the fibroadenoma will always be a part of my history. it will never fully disappear.
-----
*--indebted to steve handy for that linguistic little gem, a brilliant mash-up of two derogatory identifiers. i'm sure you can figure it out.
**--proper medical nomenclature can be so powerful, & BRCA1 & BRCA2 walk around like big, made motherfuckers who'll beat the shit out of you if you so much as look at them sideways. so i call them mutants. who has the upper hand now, WHAT?
now that i have your full attention:
some of you already know of my health tribulations, as well as my hatred for the color pink. you may also be aware of the fact that my past biopsies all came back the same; i have noncancerous fibroadenomas. the first lump i found is now gone. i can't remember if i had it excised or if it went away on its own. you'd think something like that would stick in my mind, but it didn't. regardless, the little bastard's gone, & i'm glad for it. the second one, however, the jick* that first made its appearance in january 2012, is still there, & it hurts.
this past september, my highly qualified APRN at mercy hospital told me that this cyst was no occasion to lose sleep. though it was twice the size of its predecessor, it posed no great risk, so long as i monitored it closely & had regular mammograms. i asked if i should get tested for the mutant breast genes**, & she said that it likely wasn't necessary, since the occurrence of breast cancer in the family was limited. i've trusted j.w. with my breast health (& thus, in a way, with my life), but her recommendation still doesn't sit well with me. i've asked about this every visit, & every time, she's said i don't need it.
i've tried to ignore this bitch of a tumor (& yes, it is a tumor), but i can't. it's slightly bigger than normal, a fact that's impossible to forget. further, there are days when i feel the it without even touching my body. if my breast is tender for any reason, as it is today, the lump aches. a lot. sometimes, it reddens, & the offending regions become visible.
1) the fibroadenoma marks me. maybe i'm the only one who can see it. maybe i'm just angry that it won't go away. maybe i'm afraid that someday, it will turn against me. the family history looms large enough to make room for this fear.
2) the scar from the core needle biopsy hasn't faded, though nearly fourteen months have passed since the procedure was done. at the very least, it hasn't faded enough for my tastes. or sanity.
honesty: i want a lumpectomy. i want the cyst gone. i want it out of my body & out of my mind. &, though it sounds beyond extreme, if the rate of cyst formation keeps up, i can see myself getting a double mastectomy & electing to have reconstructive surgery, God & finances willing. i can't handle this. it terrifies me, & as we all know very well, i'm quite the melodramatic coward. true, this physiological bullshit provides precious fodder for expression, &, as a writer, i should thus recognize it for the gold it's worth, but come on. i can only handle so much inspiration.
my heart goes out to those women & men whose biopsies don't turn out so well &/or come too late. our fears run in the same vein, but my anxieties get to stop at a certain point. those brave patients actually have to answer the questions i've been able to deflect:
- how will i treat this?
- will i have to get one or both breasts removed?
- if i do have to have a mastectomy, will i be able to afford reconstruction?
- how would i feel without my breasts?
- how would i feel, surgically augmented, knowing that, really, it's not my original body under there?
i don't lose sleep, i don't cry in the shower once a month as i do my self-check, & i don't forget that i'm still relatively healthy. & i don't really have a conclusion to these thoughts. there are too many facets to allow for a final perspective, & the composition of my body & my life is ever changing. the only knowledge i really have is this: someday, it may finally be cut from my flesh, but the fibroadenoma will always be a part of my history. it will never fully disappear.
-----
*--indebted to steve handy for that linguistic little gem, a brilliant mash-up of two derogatory identifiers. i'm sure you can figure it out.
**--proper medical nomenclature can be so powerful, & BRCA1 & BRCA2 walk around like big, made motherfuckers who'll beat the shit out of you if you so much as look at them sideways. so i call them mutants. who has the upper hand now, WHAT?
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