Yesterday morning I was persuaded by the nurse, who measured both my arms and found them to be exactly the same, that I did not have lymphedema. This was followed by a long visit with the doctor who convinced me that my risk of getting lymphedema is something like three or four percent. So not only was I convinced on both counts–that I didn’t have it and that I likely wouldn’t get it–I was also impressed with my thoughtful, cutting-edge (so to speak), and careful treatment. So I agreed to get zapped after all. Today was Day 7 out of 33.
I found out today from my radio oncologist, who spoke with me for almost two hours, that I do indeed have invasive cancer and I have decided that I am going to have to go through radiation after all. I resisted it because lymphedema to my right arm, upon which my whole life and livelihood rests, scares me more than losing a breast. But now I believe that it would be foolish of me not to do it. I was so happy, feeling as if I was let out of prison, and now I feel reincarcerated. Sort of apt, don’t you think? Sort of incarcinoma-ed? I am not without courage but I am a wimp. Getting sucked into the medical machinery like this scares me silly.