My Odds

DISCLAIMER: 

I sugar coat nothing here. No one, and nothing gets hidden, or colorized, or disguised. (other than the word itself, catstir)

I do this because, I need to be honest. I do not practice honesty to hurt, or judge, or dismantle. But yes, sometimes that happens, and I'm trying really hard NOT to apologize for it.

catstir [kat - stur] noun: 

Code word for the other "C" word that rhymes with "dancer"

In My Dreams

I am driving in a car. I am accompanied by a snake and a honey badger.  At first, I think it is a skunk and worry it will spray me.  I am thrilled to learn this "crazy fuck" is at my side.  He eats the snake as it attempts to coil itself around my neck.  We approach a bridge. The bridge has no railing.  I turn to look at the honey badger and discover that he has eaten half of my car.  All that is left is the steering wheel, a gas peddle and the seat.  There are no brakes. "Get out of my car you crazy fuck!" I scream.  I wake up.    

How am I?

   

I am suffering from situational sadness. My catstir has disrupted my sense of normalcy. I am too sad for facebook, twitter, or any social media. I am too sad for social meddling of any kind unless I am not expected to be happy or entertaining. But because I am an entertainer by nature, I am disappointed in myself when I don't deliver.

Antidepressants will NOT help me.

Anticancer pills WILL help me. But so far, they don't exist outside of my mind.

Where did I go?

I don't recognize ME anymore. When I speak, think, or write, I am negative, bitter, defeated, and weak. I do not know this me. 

I have no clever stories to tell you. The only thing that churns inside my head are percentages and the odds of THIS and odds of THAT.

80% of biopsies are benign. 

Radiation therapy can reduce the reoccurrence of cancer by 70%. 

Radiation on the left breast increases the chance of coronary artery disease by 59%. 

Women ages 50 to 59 have a 2.38% chance of being diagnosed with breast cancer.

The risk of developing breast cancer in both breasts is about 10% over a lifetime.

How did a healthy, (arguably) well-balanced, 52 year old woman with no hereditary factors, and zero medical conditions, suddenly become uninsurable? What are the odds of that?  

If you REALLY want to be morbid, DeathRiskRanking.org can calculate YOUR risk of dying, taking into consideration, age, sex, place of residence, medical issues, etc.  

Why so Morbid?

I had an MRI on the anniversary of my son's birth and the following day I received more disconcerting news. My not-so-eloquent wording of this is, "my catstir has catstir." The medically correct wording is a "highly suspicious mass located behind the ductal carcinoma." There is a chance that this "mass" aka "tumor" is benign, but the catstir specialist says that is "highly unlikely."

This changes the game.  Just as the diagnosis of catstir in both breast changes the game.

My choice ...my personal, well informed, proactive, peace of mind, get on with my life, refusal to define myself by catstir choice, is to undergo a bilateral (double) mastectomy.  If my "mass" is not benign, I will undergo chemotherapy.  I may have to consider other medical options as well.

Please understand that this is a personal choice and yes, of course, after MUCH research and four opinions, I will incorporate western medicine, homeopathic remedies, and a bevy of mind empowering approaches to healing.  But PLEASE do not doubt or judge me. Or if you do, PLEASE keep it to yourself.

There was a time when my big decision of the day was whether or not to order a grande or a venti coffee at Starbucks. Now there are life and death decisions at every turn. And regardless of how prepared I am, I am constantly surprised by new developments.

The Need for BALANCE

This past weekend, the Secret Tea Party Society (STPS), an eclectic, generous in heart, group of anything but teatotallers, gathered to celebrate the simplicities of friendship.  Here, in this NO PINK zone, I felt safe enough to be vulnerable. I did not entertain and I was not expected to entertain. Here, I was able to turn off the volume and redirect my attention to the everyday joys of life.

I returned home with a magical, crystal GREEN monkey, a powerful, antioxidant elixir, a snowman I've named Sam, and a smile.

This coming weekend will be my last weekend before my surgery. My last weekend with my natural breasts. What will I do?  Where will I go?  How will I celebrate this dramatic change in my life?

I will be creating a CATSTIR cape. It will be green and silver, and silky and shiny.  I will wear it to my chemo treatments (if needed) or anytime I feel scared, or vulnerable, or overrun with pain, or the fear of pain, or the fear of the unknown, or just plain fear.  I will wear it when I feel alone. I will wear it when I need to be alone. I will wear it in celebration of a life well lived.  Deliberately lived.

Special thanks to those of you who wanted to HELP... 

Your cards brings me joy. Pure joy.
I plan to string them along the ceiling of my bedroom, so I can see them as I rest and heal.

xo, MonkeyME