The joy of English: playing with our words… Big C, Bigsy, Carcinoma. I don’t like to use the word “Cancer” because it also happens to be my astrological sign, but… it is the C word that gets whispered when the type is female.
To quote the A.D.A.M. Medical Encyclopedia at PubMed Health (a gov website, link here):
“Cancer is the uncontrolled growth of abnormal cells in the body.”
It is a bit impossible to go get your boobs squished without thinking about cancer, even if your digital screen bilateral mammography takes place at a beautiful and new breast care center that feels like an exclusive upscale spa.
A silent voice on the breeze, a tiny whisper only inside my head, wondering… waiting… ready for Round Two? I catch myself making tentative decisions about the next to worst case scenario since worst case is obviously death. What to do what if… as if I should decide now, before a diagnosis spins me around so fast that I cannot remember my own name.
Round One with cancer was over twenty years ago. It threw me for a loop even though it wasn’t quite unexpected. I knew something was wrong. I saw cancer pretty much as I drew this monster: as a monster, faceless yet there, not necessarily to look exactly like this one… but something that does not belong. I wanted it out of me, out of me now.
Two surgeries later, my cervix, uterus, and ovaries were gone. I found myself mourning the children I would never have while dealing with the sudden onset of surgical menopause. I plea temporary insanity for all decisions made during that phase of my life, including accidentally remarrying an ex-husband. Maybe that is why I feel like I need to prepare myself for what if, to decide while my head is clear should Friday’s mammography reveal something that needs cut out… if a breast needs removed.
Would you opt for implants? Or just ask them to do an extremely neat job to minimize scars?
Am I nuts to even think about such things?
Thank you for viewing my art!