(sung to the tune of "I'll be home for Christmas")
We arrived home a week ago from a lovely time in Jamaica. It now seems so very far away...relaxation, I read 3 books, swam, ate & drank. I had a massage, kayaked in the ocean and at night we would play charades and other silly games. Lots of good company and peacefulness made even better knowing that the twins were in good hands and enjoying themselves.
And now I have cancer. Weeks ago I detected a small lump in my left breast. The mammogram said all was normal but my erudite OB/GYN said he always sends a patient with a 'lump' off to see a surgeon. An ultrasound and a biopsy gave me the results on Friday. It's cancer. An MRI today told me that it's the only tumor in my breasts but it's aggressive and just itching to get out. Tomorrow I go in for surgery, he'll do a lumpectomy and check the sentinel lymph node. I am scared, pissed off and exhausted. All of this information has been gathered in just 6 short days. Today we talked to the radiation oncologist. As I lay on the table during my biopsy last week, squeezing the hand of the volunteer, I thought of all that my children have been through. They have had needles stuck in their brains while they were awake not to mention assorted holes drilled during various brain surgeries. They have had their eyes rolled around in their tiny little sockets and at one point point I recall at least 10 attempts by various nurses to start an IV line in poor little Zelda's fragile veins. She finally ended up with an IV line in her head. My situation is nothing compared to what they have been through.
I can get through this, I know I can. But it fucking sucks. I won't mince words. I am ready to stop crying, ready to stop feeling like a victim and start being a survivor...tomorrow perhaps?