I had a surgery date scheduled in the next couple of days and, even tho the pain was still excruciating and it was just now common practice to walk around with my arm up under my left breast to support its weight, we felt a wave of relief that we were now on the right track. I was going to have the cyst removed on Friday by a brilliant surgeon who I trusted and then we'd know what needed to be done next. Both the surgeon and my GP had discussed a full mastectomy after they had a chance to biopsy what they took out and I was just fine with that. Ya see, I really had resolved myself years ago that when this happened to me (with my genetic history I just knew it would) that I wouldn't waste a moment's time sweating the small stuff. The first signs of breast cancer and I had decided that both the breasts were going and that was going to be that. I understand that some women have a hard time with that as they identify their femininity with that part of their body, but I just didn't feel that way...they were just two fatty extensions of my body that if in the case they were a threat to my life could be lopped off and never worried about again...I liked living too much! We really spent a couple of days with the weight of the world off our shoulders (besides that weight was still planted firmly in my boob, lol)...it was going to be surgery to remove the cyst, prolly some chemo, and then reconstruction...I'd be as good as new...hope ran abundant in our house those next couple days and it was good!
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