Om homo homo homo Om homo homo homo
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«» p.s. ... I'm not Queer «» |
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«» Astrology ... shmology «» |
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 ... in case you were wondering
I have absolutely no idea what any of this means. But whatever it does, it may be why I'm still around. |
«» Here, have some popcorn. It's on me .... «» |
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Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae |
«» And if you simply must know what makes me tick «» | ||||||
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When the bitch takes the wheels off ....
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«» Where else am I an active editor «» | ||||
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«» Tinkers «» |
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How precious time was burned at the pyre.... Copy Editor |
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«» A Tale of Two Titties (updated) «» |
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I used to have two titties. Named them Shirley and Bassey. Oh, how they loved going au naturel in ocean waves. Two peas in a lacy black pod. In late 2010 I had my annual mammogram. No concerns. Then one day, about seven months later, during a road trip in the middle of nowhere, I checked into a motel room. It was a hot day. 99 degrees in the shade. Top and bra came off asap. When I fell on the hard mattress, exhausted after hours of driving, my right shoulder blade rested on the edge of the mattress and my right breast was raised a little. I started to rub my chest, moved my hand to my armpit ... and felt a hard lump. I couldn't exactly feel it again when I stood up. When I returned home I made an appointment with my primary doc right away and after the examination she immediately set the wheels into motion. My band of medical angels came together as one: primary, surgeon, gynecologist, cardiologist (yeah, the ticker has its own personal issues). Bassey had to go. It had invasive cancer that spread to one lymph node and required an axillary lymphadenectomy. Into the trash can went 36 lymph nodes (my surgeon was an eager beaver). My condition was Stage 2B, HR+ cancer. I went through all of it alone (well, except for my two dogs and the occasional helper that did a grocery run for me during the first month after surgery and gave the furries a bath). I'm not kidding. Any remnants of family lived almost 3,000 miles away. Closest friends had long ago high-tailed it to distant regions. I didn't involve local breast cancer support networks or the American Cancer Society. Doctor appointments, surgery, chemotherapy. Before-during-after. All of it. It was just me, Shirley, and eight paws. I didn't feel pain after the decatittation and did not need to take pain killers. Because when you perform a mastectomy you cut through the nerves. When the nerves are injured they don't send pain signals to the brain. The chemo was almost endurable, except for the Neupogen injections afterwards. Save for the nether region I lost hair from head to toe, facial skin peeled, toe nails fell off, and developed neuropathy as a side effect. (I kept a large toe nail as a reminder of those days.) I did not opt for breast reconstruction. I stopped wearing a falsie. Tops and shirts no longer fit well. They wouldn't anyway because I developed lymphedema in the arm that gave up lymph nodes; one side of me is noticeably larger than the other. Crowning glory grew back thinner, eyebrows never returned to the thickness they once were, legs and underarms remain hairless, and the neuropathy has never completely gone away. But all things considered, I aint's complaining. Shirley is content. Growing older and hanging lower little by little. But I imagine her mythical Amazon tittie cousins are watching over her while she bounces along in a sports bra. So ... If you have been diagnosed with breast cancer or are afraid your lump might result in a real downer ... I'm here to tell you that you, too, have the strength in you to battle cancer, even if at first you don't think so. If you're female, check your bazookas regularly. Feel yerself up, girrl. Get annual mammograms. Feel a lump after you had an annual mammo? To the doctor you go. (And if you're a male with enlarged breast tissue you also can develop breast cancer, don't mess around with reality.) I didn't go for it, but, hey, do whatever makes you happy .... ● ● ● UPDATE ● ● ●
So how much time do I have left? Who knows. I'm on a medication regimen of Ibrance, Letrozole, and Xgeva. Of all the hassles, the effect on my gastrointestinal system has been the worst. Oh, well. As Jim Morrison sang, no one here gets out alive. |
«» Remembrance of friends gone long ago «» |
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 Lies of Handsome Men |
«» Girls Girls Girls «» |
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Um,Kim Novak! |
«» Articles this and that and this and «» |
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Examples of 'Before' & 'After':
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