catstir [kat - stur] noun:
Code word for the other "C" word that rhymes with "dancer"
Sometimes, I am in a hole. It is dark here. It is dark (and safe) in this hole.
It is more like a womb then a hole.
Knowing I am abandoning my breasts is beating on me. I am frazzled. I am trembling. It is time I let go (I don't want to let go) and begin my healing.
My surgery date is March 5th. I surrender my catstir to the specialists at Memorial Sloan Kettering hospital.
I fear the pain. The emotion and physical pain.
I fear the unknown. A life without my breasts.
I do not fear death.
Today, I climb out of my hole and stare directly into the light. It is bright. I do not scurry. Today, I realize that THIS is NOT about cosmetics or convenience. THIS is about catstir.
I match my aggressive, invasive, catstir with equal vigor. I am a fighter. I have tools and secret weapons that catstir has yet to face.
I will be donating "left over" tissue and blood for a catstir research study at Sloan Kettering. This makes me proud. This empowers me. I am certain MY blood and tissue will give them the answers they need.
I promise NOT to tell you what to do, but I hope my story will remind you how important it is to get yearly mammograms. YES, they are humiliating but they are necessary. GOOD NEWS...there is a new 3D mammogram just around the corner. It will give better images with less compression. Look for it in a hospital near you!
Clearly, I am broken. And the pieces will not fit the way they once did.
I miss you all. I miss me. I miss writing. I miss reading my favorite blogs.
I miss my father. I miss him being fierce and strong.
I need my father.
Here, in the hole, my father did not die. He is fierce and strong. He is with me.
Here, outside the hole, my husband is with me. He is supportive. He is patient. He is loyal. He is brave.
In the hours leading up to my fathers death, between gurgles and gasps of air, he whispered, "Pennsylvania, Pennsylvania..." I knew what he meant. My husband was in Pennsylvania.
My father waited for my husband to return before he parted.
My marriage is strained in a way its never been, but this is not the time for me to let go of things I have control of.
I want this day, this week, this pain, to end. I want to get back to the (monkey) business of living.
I want to sleep. I want to rest my weary head... drift on the down of clouds. be mindful. be mindless. be fancy free. be me... monkey me.