Admitting It

I need to say this:

I've done the yearly mammograms and self-exams recommended by all the healthcare organizations with the knowledge that I have absolutely no family history of any kind of cancer. I'm in the clear. 

Oh sure, I found the lump in my right breast, went to my doctor, had a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound, had a biopsy AND was officially diagnosed with THAT disease on June thirteen (yep, Friday the thirteenth) but somebody made a mistake. That's possible, right?  

I tell myself I'm wrong. The doctor is wrong, too. Everyone is wrong. I don't want to join "that club." I don't want tohave to compare lumpectomies to mastectomies--if I have 'it' I want 'it' cut out-gone-removed! Chop, chop! Get the show on the road! I don't need boobs if they are going to betray me like this! They were too big anyway! I'm making a great big deal over nothing. "You don't have REAL cancer" I say, "you just have a little problem in your right breast."  No--

I have breast cancer.



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