I don't know where to begin.
First, I found a new blog: http://labornurse.blogspot.com/ No, wait, that's me writing about something else. Okay, focusfocusfocusfocus. Maybe I'll go take a shower.
focus, ya silly woman
Right. Jumping in, then: a month and a half ago, I had my annual physical. My doctor found a lump in my breast, and told me to come back in a couple of weeks, so that she could check it. As a nursing mum, I shrugged this off. I have full milk ducts, I have empty ones, I have all sorts of wee solid bits in my breast, inflating and deflating.
Except, of course, that on Friday this lumpy bit was still inflated, solid and in the same spot. If it were a plugged duct it would hurt, if it were an infected duct, it would really hurt...best case scenario, it's a cyst. Worst case scenario, it's cancer.
There, I said it.
My brain is running like a diarrhitic child. I'm googling in search of wisdom, and coming up with this:
there are approximately three million women in the US with breast cancer, one million of them are undiagnosed (getbcfacts.com).
From birth to age 39, one woman in 231 will get breast cancer. Hm.
The risk of breast cancer increases if a woman has a first-degree relative (mother, sister, or daughter) who had breast or ovarian cancer. (not me) But also, 80% of women who get breast cancer have no known family history of the disease. (argh)
Risk may also be higher in women who have taken oral contraceptives or hormone replacement therapy (HRT). (me - being on the pill is a good way to control bleeding in symptomatic carriers of the hemophilia gene) Except that breastcancer.org says: Many research studies show no association between birth control pills and an increased risk of breast cancer. However, one study that combined the results of many different studies did show an association between birth control pills and a very small increase in risk. The study also showed that this slight increase in risk decreased over time. (ah. scratches head.)
Conclusion? frightened rabbit brain skittering around inside my skull, with a small voice providing counterpoint by muttering, 'Dynasty. This is another freakin' episode of Dynasty, enacted by a cast of the Imperfects.'
Translation? There is so much medical drama in our life, the one kid is allergic to this, the other anaphylaxes to that, the first is getting physical therapy for a painful, immobilizing bleed, clotting this, oozing that, blah blah blah scarlet fever. Somehow, this feels like more of the same. Must be more of the same. (mental image: me, shrugging this off. C'mon, shoulders. One, two, three, shrug. Ah, the hell with it.)
So, part of me is having a hard time taking this seriously. It's shrugging this off (shrug shrug shrug), having read the script and knowing that yes, there is a next episode coming, same time, same channel. The other part is rabbitting away, muttering about the ultrasound scheduled for later this week, remembering my friend Malka, remembering Elka. Frankly, between these two bits of me, I'm fed up. I think I shall stage a revolt and create Part Number Three.
That part can be the bit that figures out Pesach (Passover). And possibly has a shower.
Note: today is a two-fer-the-price-of-one blogging day. Here is the first post of the morn, this one with frogs in it.