A Lump, the Second Time Around

It’s been four years since I finished my treatment for breast cancer—long enough for me to forget to be on high awareness mode and always take a friend when dealing with the world of hospitals and labs, even if things look relatively straight forward. After all, for four years, my routine mammograms had been clear.

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A Lump, the Second Time Around…..

It’s been four years since I finished my treatment for breast cancer—long enough for me to forget to be on high awareness mode and always take a friend when dealing with the world of hospitals and labs, even if things look relatively straight forward. After all, for four years, my routine mammograms had been clear.

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Recovering from Yesterday’s News

I seem to be recognizing my life-threatening circumstances in stages. It’s hard to know which stage I’m in until I’m booted into the next. People who have been here before me recognize where I am, I think, and they are patient. They know. The professionals, I’m guessing, have seen this again and again. I don’t know if I’m normal or just superresistant. A psychiatrist once told me, about thirty years ago (!), that I was the most resistant patient she’d ever treated. I expect my radio oncologist might sympathize.

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