No attachments

You know what the most ridiculous thing is about ME getting breast cancer?

I don’t have breasts!

No really. Any miniature mounds you see underneath my clothing are due to my super padded miracle bras.

The lady doing the mammogram seemed to be having a really hard time smushing anything of significance, and the MRI ladies just kept pushing my back down so that they could get some sort of proper scan. It’s comical really.

When we met with the general surgeon the first time, he discussed some possible surgery and reconstructive options. He commented that some options really depends on how attached I am to my breasts.

Me attached to these microscopic things? HA! I have no attachment whatsoever…and they’ve caused me nothing but trouble. In middle school and high school, these tiny things led to teasing, leading to major self-esteem issues. Bathing suit shopping is an absolute joke. When nursing Cameron, I developed an infection that felt like a needle was jabbing into my skin every time Cameron latched on. When nursing Ella, I had quite a few episodes of clogged ducts and major pain. And now this cancer.

Attached? Not at all. Please take them away…far far away!

But make sure I get some bigger and better ones in return!


Update: Surgery Next week...mastectomy of my left breast. I'll give more details tomorrow.