Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Shit's not right at the house of random

So a few days ago I posted about physical therapy for my vag... Well it will be a while before I can go. Not cause I like peeing my pants, but because there is something else more pressing that I have to do.

Those of you I know in Real Life, please do not run and yell from the mountains, because this shit is serious. So serious most of my family, my kids included, have no idea what is going on.


Last month when I was doing my monthly breast exam (seriously bitches, check your boobs and know what is normal for you) I noticed a little indent that most definitely was not there the month before.
I called the doc and went to visit. I have to say the diviot was not as concerning as my new lack of energy, I am tired all the damn time, or the swollen lymph nodes I can feel in my arm pit. So I saw the doc on the 16th of January, and she ordered a mammogram with ultrasound follow up.
That was the 18th of January. The radiologist was kind of an ass and refused to do the mammogram, because of my age, the radiation is a great risk and because dense breast tissue is hard to image.

After my u/s radiologist came in and gave me the standard "your boobs are fine" line I do have an enlarged lymph node but that's normal.. It didn't seem right to me so I asked a few questions and was told to stop worrying because I am "too young for breast cancer"

So that was that.

Until by breast started to swell, and it started to get a pink rashy appearance so back to the dr I go....

As of this moment I meet with a breast surgeon/oncologist in Friday. So she's can check out my boobs, with a breast MRI on Monday.

I've spent the last few days anxious, and terrified.

I think the clincher is in the back of my mind, since just before I found the little divot in my breast, there is little voice telling me something is just not right... Something is very wrong, if I didn't have that little voice screaming at me, I would probably feel better.

I know my body, I trust what it's telling me.
The one other time it was screaming at me, I almost died.

I am terrified of what the oncologist will say, or really I should say, I'm terrified of the wait. Nothing can change what is... So what ever it is I can handle. But the waiting... The waiting is going to kill me.

I know I'm not too young,
I know it's said every day,
But I don't want to hear
"Ashley, you have cancer"

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