Lots of thoughts are racing around. I guess that's normal.
I realize I'm not special. Many many women and men so I've been told by Dr. Gaskill at the Victory Breat Clinic, have breast cancer. Man have mamograms, can you imagine a guy getting his man-tit squished??? Funny shit.
I know I'm not special. The clinic didn't hone that in for me. I know how many cases are out there. It just so happened I became one of them. That clinic is packed full of women with breast problems.
I have to laugh at this next bit...I've NEVER been so happy to focus on our budget and pay bills and grocery shopping. Routine is good.
I dug my ass out of bed this morning and literally scrubbed the bathroom in my pajamas. I sniveled a bit. I was thinking I hope I can have surgery and treatment and then be able to come home and have my life with Tad. Do the budget, grocery shop, take care of him because he makes the money and it's because of him I can live my life for once with some peace and safety.
I love Tad and it's because of him I have hope. My past is a shit hole and we won't go there.
Worst case, even if something else is going on, I have what I have now with My Tad. I'm not going to be a whiner.
Now I'm wondering when a doctor tells you "even though your cells are advanced it IS very treatable"...wtf does that mean?
Everything is treatable, there is a treatment. Skin your knee and slap a bandaid on it. There, it's treatable.
There's treatment for cancer. Lots of types and some are agressive and can matastisize quickly. So now I wait to find out when my appt, is at MD Anderson (thankfully there is a branch here in Clear Lake) and I assume I will have a full body MRI to see if anything else is happening.
I'm definitely going to have my boob either entitirely removed or a lumpectomy. I would have to guess the size of the mass, I won't be shocked if my boob is gone. That's ok though and I'll tell you why.
Dr. Abdel Fustok is a miracle worker. This man rebuilds burn victims. I had a lot of consultations when I was debating implants. Some of those doctors really fucking grossed me out. He didn't. The first consultation there was a little girl who had severe burns on her face and most of her hair was gone. I felt like a pretentious piece of shit sitting there wanting boobs and there sat this little girl. It made me cry, but I held most of it in until I was in his office then I broke down.
He was so kind. He said "I am an artist and I help people either enhance what God has given them, or rebuild the misfortune that has taken place. He showed me her pictures and by damn even though I though she didn't look well, he had already begun restructuring her cheeks and nose and skin and hair grafts. He explained it would take years, but since she was a young girl there was an excellent chance she would live a normal live and be beautiful. Plus he had a few cosmetics experts on hand that can do fucking miracles, I shit you not.
So, my moral here is, no matter what my outcome, the horror of my childhod, the shit hole hell job I left, all that aside, I AM so very very fortunate. I really am.
Maybe this will be a happy ending, by that I mean even if things take a turn for the worse, I have every intention of being brave and facing what might come. I don't fear death. For all I know it could be the best thing ever.
I DO hope I get to live though.
I've talked so much with Tad about where we should retire. We want to be in a small place, maybe a custom built home on a lake where we can drop our fishing poles in the water and just enjoy our old age. I've never wanted to be rich, not money wise anyway. If we get older and can have a nice little place maybe with some water and live out the rest of our time, we will be rich.
That's it for now. I'll try to keep updating here when I can.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Yep
I have cancer. Just as I thought.
How sad.
I'm thinking I wished a long time ago I would have cared more about myself to go to the doc when I should have. I should have had a baseline 6 years ago.
I wish a lot of things were different, but that's done.
I go through the process now and do the best I can.
The problem is I HAVE to want to make it. That may be a hard one, but if I want to live I HAVE to regroup and completely change my mind set. That is either going to save my life or potentially do me in.
Ugh.
How sad.
I'm thinking I wished a long time ago I would have cared more about myself to go to the doc when I should have. I should have had a baseline 6 years ago.
I wish a lot of things were different, but that's done.
I go through the process now and do the best I can.
The problem is I HAVE to want to make it. That may be a hard one, but if I want to live I HAVE to regroup and completely change my mind set. That is either going to save my life or potentially do me in.
Ugh.
So far
I guess this fkn blog took off the color and bold text options.
Oh well, it's free and I shouldn't bitch. Much.
I'm still waiting to hear. I'm going between severe crying jags, fits of distemper, thinking about dying like a dog, and hoping that I won't, that is IF I have cancer. I have odd bits of calm in there too. Dead calm.
Lot's of thoughts or as my sister says "just don't mind fuck yourself". I wonder who doesn't have some mind fuckage when faced with this shit.
Yes I want to know, but then again this morning I was rushing trying to get the fuck out of the house and buy new undies just in case, went to Mass Nursery and fed the tortoise, looked at all the pretty plants and cried and cried. I wish I could run away and never get that call. I was dreading coming home.
The sister suggested I call my doc and ask for an anti-anxiety med, so I did that. It should be ready in about 10 minutes but I ASKED FOR IT THIS MORNING.
So to calm my ass down I took 2 Benadryl and unfortunately am sucking down a vodka and cranberry juice libation. Fuck it.
The very worst part is going to be that call if it's confirmed I have cancer and then having to call my parents. That alone makes me wish I could just die right here and never have to do that.
Oh well, it's free and I shouldn't bitch. Much.
I'm still waiting to hear. I'm going between severe crying jags, fits of distemper, thinking about dying like a dog, and hoping that I won't, that is IF I have cancer. I have odd bits of calm in there too. Dead calm.
Lot's of thoughts or as my sister says "just don't mind fuck yourself". I wonder who doesn't have some mind fuckage when faced with this shit.
Yes I want to know, but then again this morning I was rushing trying to get the fuck out of the house and buy new undies just in case, went to Mass Nursery and fed the tortoise, looked at all the pretty plants and cried and cried. I wish I could run away and never get that call. I was dreading coming home.
The sister suggested I call my doc and ask for an anti-anxiety med, so I did that. It should be ready in about 10 minutes but I ASKED FOR IT THIS MORNING.
So to calm my ass down I took 2 Benadryl and unfortunately am sucking down a vodka and cranberry juice libation. Fuck it.
The very worst part is going to be that call if it's confirmed I have cancer and then having to call my parents. That alone makes me wish I could just die right here and never have to do that.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
The Latest
It doesn't look good. Not only is the lump fixed and very large, the lymph nodes are also swollen. A multi-needle biopsy is scheduled for Thurs afternoon, then I should know if I have cancer either by Fri or Mon.
That's all I have for now.
That's all I have for now.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Masters of Horror
I'm not easily creeped out. Last year Tad and I watched a Masters of Horror episode directed by John Carpenter called "Cigarette Burns" and it was fkn horrible. I loved it.
I just bought the dvd for 6 whole bucks on crack-EBay.
Take my advice you peeps that love really psycho screwed up shit and watch Cigarette Burns.
I guarentee it'll mess you up a while.
Pleasant dreams.
I just bought the dvd for 6 whole bucks on crack-EBay.
Take my advice you peeps that love really psycho screwed up shit and watch Cigarette Burns.
I guarentee it'll mess you up a while.
Pleasant dreams.
Friday, June 13, 2008
The Old Man
I guess I started referring to my Dad as "The Old Man" because when I was a youngster my (at least I thought at the time) cool as snot older brother and sister called him that.
He was released after surgery to a supposed (as my ESM called it) a rehab., so Tad and I went to see him last Sunday. Maybe rehab/nursing home at best.
Getting old can be a real fucking bad thing. There were old peeps everywhere. Some crying, some with obviously advanced dementia/alzheimers.
Anyway, we visited with my Dad. He looked pretty worn, but then again he IS going to be 83 and honestly damn lucky to be in the shape he is. He started coughing a bit in conversation, then it got worse...I asked if he needed water "oh no honey I'm fine" hack hack...then he barfed all over himself. I told the nurse at the desk, next thing there were 5 attendants in the room, one had fresh towels (the ONE in the bathroom had vomit all over it, wonder where that came from?) and what did they do? One of them threw a towel over the mess on his chest and I supposed that was their way of fixing it?? Another asked him what he ate so he would be sure not to eat the same thing.
Anyway, I know he was embarrassed. He was sharing a room with another man who must have had a stroke and when he woke up and saw us there he kept trying to communicate so I went over to him and leaned close, and he kept making gestures with his hands touching his face. Then he started patting my hair and kept trying to speak.
Fuck.
I'm way the hell more afraid of living to be old than I am of dying younger than I should. Definitely. What I saw last Sunday drove that home in a brutal way.
Dad is back at home now and my dipshit brother was visiting this evening when I called to let him know that I may have a problem on my hands (or tit as it were). I think it's best to let everyone know just in case. At least the brother took him a Father's Day present which was thoughtful. Now if the jerk could just mow the damn lawn and give my mother and step-father some financial support since he's been living with them scott free all these years.
He is an embarassment. He will be 56 in July.
Oh well, not a damn thing I can do about that either, just like with most all things. You just ride with whatever comes and do your best.
I know a lot of my posts have been downers but I've been very very fortunate so far, and I'm grateful. I try not to lose sight of The Big Picture. :)
He was released after surgery to a supposed (as my ESM called it) a rehab., so Tad and I went to see him last Sunday. Maybe rehab/nursing home at best.
Getting old can be a real fucking bad thing. There were old peeps everywhere. Some crying, some with obviously advanced dementia/alzheimers.
Anyway, we visited with my Dad. He looked pretty worn, but then again he IS going to be 83 and honestly damn lucky to be in the shape he is. He started coughing a bit in conversation, then it got worse...I asked if he needed water "oh no honey I'm fine" hack hack...then he barfed all over himself. I told the nurse at the desk, next thing there were 5 attendants in the room, one had fresh towels (the ONE in the bathroom had vomit all over it, wonder where that came from?) and what did they do? One of them threw a towel over the mess on his chest and I supposed that was their way of fixing it?? Another asked him what he ate so he would be sure not to eat the same thing.
Anyway, I know he was embarrassed. He was sharing a room with another man who must have had a stroke and when he woke up and saw us there he kept trying to communicate so I went over to him and leaned close, and he kept making gestures with his hands touching his face. Then he started patting my hair and kept trying to speak.
Fuck.
I'm way the hell more afraid of living to be old than I am of dying younger than I should. Definitely. What I saw last Sunday drove that home in a brutal way.
Dad is back at home now and my dipshit brother was visiting this evening when I called to let him know that I may have a problem on my hands (or tit as it were). I think it's best to let everyone know just in case. At least the brother took him a Father's Day present which was thoughtful. Now if the jerk could just mow the damn lawn and give my mother and step-father some financial support since he's been living with them scott free all these years.
He is an embarassment. He will be 56 in July.
Oh well, not a damn thing I can do about that either, just like with most all things. You just ride with whatever comes and do your best.
I know a lot of my posts have been downers but I've been very very fortunate so far, and I'm grateful. I try not to lose sight of The Big Picture. :)
Suck
I have an egg sized lump on my left boob. I noticed this last night (I checked my boobs in March, didn't notice anything) as I got out of the shower. My doc is out today so I have an appt on Monday. Hopefully it's not the dreaded C and just fibroadenoma or some such shit.
In any case I am purchasing the combo pack from Dave Ramsey's site (http://www.uslegalforms.com/dave/). Will, Living Will and Power of Attorney all for $29.00! What a fucking bargain! I can get my shit in order quick just in case then save up to be cremated. I think my sister told me not too long ago you can get cremated fairly cheap, so I'll check into that too. Might as well even if I don't have cancer.
Robert Shapiro can go fuck himself with his Legal Zoom site. Who wants to give that guy a dime? Let's not forget he was part of OJ's team and helped a murderer to walk the streets.
Anyway, back to my boobs. Yes, I'm scared. I've never been afraid of dying but I despise the thought of wasting away and watching the family and loved ones suffer though it all. That is what scares me. Not death. That fucking sucks and not a damn thing you can do about it.
I guess if my boob has to be hacked on if it ends up bothering me enough maybe I can be rebuilt. That'll happen only if I'm cancer free. If not screw it. At that point is a boob significant? No, it is not. There'll be much larger worries than a tit believe me.
In other news I'm making Tad a Fathers Day cake. I went to Michaels and bought all the stuff, made buttercream icing, and so far have the cake iced, the writing and some decorations done, my hand is shaky so it looks kinda crappy but it'll be cute anyway.
I'll post a pic when I'm done.
In any case I am purchasing the combo pack from Dave Ramsey's site (http://www.uslegalforms.com/dave/). Will, Living Will and Power of Attorney all for $29.00! What a fucking bargain! I can get my shit in order quick just in case then save up to be cremated. I think my sister told me not too long ago you can get cremated fairly cheap, so I'll check into that too. Might as well even if I don't have cancer.
Robert Shapiro can go fuck himself with his Legal Zoom site. Who wants to give that guy a dime? Let's not forget he was part of OJ's team and helped a murderer to walk the streets.
Anyway, back to my boobs. Yes, I'm scared. I've never been afraid of dying but I despise the thought of wasting away and watching the family and loved ones suffer though it all. That is what scares me. Not death. That fucking sucks and not a damn thing you can do about it.
I guess if my boob has to be hacked on if it ends up bothering me enough maybe I can be rebuilt. That'll happen only if I'm cancer free. If not screw it. At that point is a boob significant? No, it is not. There'll be much larger worries than a tit believe me.
In other news I'm making Tad a Fathers Day cake. I went to Michaels and bought all the stuff, made buttercream icing, and so far have the cake iced, the writing and some decorations done, my hand is shaky so it looks kinda crappy but it'll be cute anyway.
I'll post a pic when I'm done.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
