THE WAR BETWEEN MY MILK AND EGGS
I am hesitant to post this, as I by no means am seeking out pity or attention from this. However, my last entry, while meant to detail what was a humorous event to me, has led to a string of, "What is going on? Are you okay?" emails. While it may come across as tacky to some to handle it this way, after the umpteenth time of telling the story, I realized that emotionally I can't handle calling or emailing everyone with the explanation. The more I say it, the more I start to panic. I appreciate everyone's concerns, but I'd rather just rip the band-aid off and get it all out there at once.
I have a cyst under my right breast. I found it about 6-7 weeks ago and just watched it for a month, but it's grown in size so I finally went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago. The doctor thought it was simply a fluid-filled cyst, but I found out yesterday that the ultrasound showed there was no fluid in it. You WANT there to be fluid in it. If it's empty, that's where they get concerned and have to check for cancer. I'm going in for a biopsy on Wednesday. It's a simple outpatient surgery where they will put me under then remove the cyst and send it off to be tested. Wednesday is the earliest they can get me in, but the timing stinks as I am heading out on my cross-country move the next day, but at least it's getting done. They're not thrilled about not being able to follow up with me in person, nor about me driving cross country right after the procedure, but they're being accommodating and willing to work with me on it.
I'm a bit freaked out, but the doctor said the odds are in my favor since my family has no history of breast cancer. I'm just desperately trying to remain optimistic about the whole situation and telling myself it will be fine. And if for some teensy tiny reason it's not, I'll get through it. I may be emotional and overdramatic sometimes, but I am definitely stubborn and wouldn't give up that easy. I just know it's going to be okay though.
I was telling a friend about it last night, and was saying how I'm more just pissed at my girlie parts. I've dealt with exploding ovarian cysts off and on over the last ten years, and now my boob wants to join the party? Not cool. Actually, I think it's like little kids battling for your attention. The ovaries are the older egg twins and started causing a ruckus years ago. While painful, it was harmless. So the boobs are the younger milk twins. One is the good twin, the other the bad twin. Ol' Righty is the bad twin in this scenario. Righty is all, "Mom pays WAY more attention to the egg twins than us. We HAVE to out-do them." Lefty is like, "No, she's been through enough with the egg twins. Let's leave her be." But Righty reminds Lefty about the time eight years ago that Mom hacked half of themselves off her body. While thinner, they were not as pretty. Righty has been carrying around this resentment for quite some time apparently. Lefty won't participate, but stands silent and lets its twin go on ahead with the plan. So Righty goes postal and cysts out on Mom, only this time it's not so simple. It has to one-up the egg twins by not making the cyst fluid filled. It's scary and costly, and the story's ending is hanging up in the air at the moment.
Damned kids.
The more I think about it, I'd kind of prefer a more West Side Story version of my scenario. It'd be called Breast Side Story. You know, an ovary is in love with a breast, but their parts have been rivals forever. The cysts are their love for each other...that type of thing. I think it would be much more fun to have this version of the story, complete with singing nipples and dancing ovaries. I mean seriously, can't you just see the ovaries singing Jet Song? The fallopian tubes could be their background dancers.
Harry, I think I just gave you your next musical to write!
I have a cyst under my right breast. I found it about 6-7 weeks ago and just watched it for a month, but it's grown in size so I finally went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago. The doctor thought it was simply a fluid-filled cyst, but I found out yesterday that the ultrasound showed there was no fluid in it. You WANT there to be fluid in it. If it's empty, that's where they get concerned and have to check for cancer. I'm going in for a biopsy on Wednesday. It's a simple outpatient surgery where they will put me under then remove the cyst and send it off to be tested. Wednesday is the earliest they can get me in, but the timing stinks as I am heading out on my cross-country move the next day, but at least it's getting done. They're not thrilled about not being able to follow up with me in person, nor about me driving cross country right after the procedure, but they're being accommodating and willing to work with me on it.
I'm a bit freaked out, but the doctor said the odds are in my favor since my family has no history of breast cancer. I'm just desperately trying to remain optimistic about the whole situation and telling myself it will be fine. And if for some teensy tiny reason it's not, I'll get through it. I may be emotional and overdramatic sometimes, but I am definitely stubborn and wouldn't give up that easy. I just know it's going to be okay though.
I was telling a friend about it last night, and was saying how I'm more just pissed at my girlie parts. I've dealt with exploding ovarian cysts off and on over the last ten years, and now my boob wants to join the party? Not cool. Actually, I think it's like little kids battling for your attention. The ovaries are the older egg twins and started causing a ruckus years ago. While painful, it was harmless. So the boobs are the younger milk twins. One is the good twin, the other the bad twin. Ol' Righty is the bad twin in this scenario. Righty is all, "Mom pays WAY more attention to the egg twins than us. We HAVE to out-do them." Lefty is like, "No, she's been through enough with the egg twins. Let's leave her be." But Righty reminds Lefty about the time eight years ago that Mom hacked half of themselves off her body. While thinner, they were not as pretty. Righty has been carrying around this resentment for quite some time apparently. Lefty won't participate, but stands silent and lets its twin go on ahead with the plan. So Righty goes postal and cysts out on Mom, only this time it's not so simple. It has to one-up the egg twins by not making the cyst fluid filled. It's scary and costly, and the story's ending is hanging up in the air at the moment.
Damned kids.
The more I think about it, I'd kind of prefer a more West Side Story version of my scenario. It'd be called Breast Side Story. You know, an ovary is in love with a breast, but their parts have been rivals forever. The cysts are their love for each other...that type of thing. I think it would be much more fun to have this version of the story, complete with singing nipples and dancing ovaries. I mean seriously, can't you just see the ovaries singing Jet Song? The fallopian tubes could be their background dancers.
Harry, I think I just gave you your next musical to write!
