|I wonder where that mug got to...|
I've wondered about continuing here and would like to keep the record of our life happening for the childers. I have been guilty of climbing on the Instagram express because it is just so easy and quick and you don't have to be at a computer. Not that there's anything wrong with that it is just not as nourishing sometimes- a Macca's snack as opposed to a balanced full bloggy meal It just feels like time to reconnect and get some thoughts down and out of my head.
The very evening I wrote the last happy post in the cubby, we got a call that something nasty had been found in the excised breast reduction tissue. There I was all happy and chilled on my cloud 9 drugs thinking it was all done and dusted. Finally I had symmetry, new perkier ladies that were mine, all mine and they tell me it's all about to start again??? That was a whole three days of thinking we could maybe get back to being normal again.
|Must get back to the cubby this holiday for R and R.|
So it was a bit of a shock. When I mentioned this to the doctor who had performed the operation he commented that he was "a bit surprised" too. Of course he was, as he had not bothered to mark the tissue or request tumour margins or mentioned that I had a tiny bit of breast cancer history on his pathology request forms. So the pathology told us nothing- just that it was there. We don't know if there was more or if it was contained or if there were safe margins because he didn't ask for them in the most routine of tests usually done for that procedure. To make matters worse, the wee beasty lump had not shown up in the $500 non-rebatable MRI weeks before- or the ultrasound or the mammogram earlier in the year. I have rather lost faith in these ridiculously expensive tests. Anyhoo, the surgeon said he was a little surprised as he gazed out the window, giving me no eye contact and no apology. I would prefer not to see him again.
|The annoying doctor Tweedle with his poking fingers.|
So the option was another mastectomy which could be followed by months of reconstructive surgery with expanders and implant to follow or a more conservative course of radium again. I opted for the latter. There was just one person who thought I should just be off with it's head to be sure to be sure, but I am still at more risk from the original B.C. and really could not face more surgery and hospitalisation after last year. The possibility of another muffinectomy to rebuild a breast was impossible as they had used it all up. If only they could do a buttockectomy- but alas. Maybe I'll regret it later but my mind just could not accept another major amputation and surgical recovery. My family simply wasn't up to it either.
|Part of a graffiti piece from work that reminds me of radium treatment...|
|The view from my old desk- sigh|
I have the time for a brief window to regroup and reconnect with you all if anyone is still out there. It seems many of us have gone over to the instagram side and I have caught up with a couple of you there but it did not feel like the way to share this wee story. Hopefully this clears up a few of the questions and kind enquiries from you gentle souls. Your support was always beyond imaginable when this began in 2012.
Sometimes it feels easier to be open to people outside the immediate family and friend circle where so much is clouded by emotion and angst and a misguided compulsion to try to help in all the wrong ways.
|a "foxy-moron": when love stings|
Thanks for the past and for the now and, hopefully, for the future if I can get my blogojo back and there is somebody still reading out in the cyber wilderness.