Sam Gonzalez67 said:I was actually nervous about checking this thread... then I saw the amazing news... 🙂
Jack, I can only imagine the relief you felt when those results came in... 😁
You know what? When I woke up the next morning and realized how happy I actually was, I felt like biting my own foot. Just like a dog going absolutely haywire, chasing its own tail in circles. Pure euphoria.
I was a complete fool. 😁
Anyway, Septimus has an appointment tomorrow. Fingers crossed and thinking positive thoughts. 🙂
Man, the wind was really howling out at Central Park today. If I hadn't been anchored by my healthy, beautiful, massive tits, I probably would have been blown away entirely. 😁
Anyway—here are the results.
The lump is clear of anything over 5mm; underneath the clear area, it’s fibro-cystic mastopathy II (if I read that correctly)... and it also notes intra-canalicular epithelium, stratified, without atypia. Increased risk due to positive family history; follow-up ultrasound in 6 months, annual mammogram.
I need to keep the images on file so we can track how this "thing" progresses.
And now, the translation I had to ask them for... (Septimus, listen up!) Basically, because of all this and that, which I'll list later, cysts and mastopathy develop. In layman's terms, these results come from the breasts' inability to absorb the "monthly hormonal workload"—one specific part of the breast tissue fails to process it properly, and on that "unresponsive" section, cysts and mastopathy start forming. See, during the monthly cycle, the ducts produce tiny amounts of secretion from the mammary glands, but in some places, those ducts don't "clear out," the surrounding tissue doesn't absorb it... and there you go, Jack.
To put it even more bluntly, I have localized, partial lazy tits. 😁 Jack them!
So, why does this happen? Because we eat food loaded with pesticides; because we drink alcohol (though I don't quite get that part—I don't drink enough to actually be a drinker, just the occasional sip); because we hit puberty early; because we take estrogen or eat foods that mimic estrogen; because we haven't given birth (which isn't true for me, I've given birth); because we aren't breastfeeding (again, not applicable here, I nursed for two years); because some women have ovarian dysfunction (Magična, is that perhaps what happened to you, dear??); some women deal with it due to weight issues; because we eventually cross the 50 mark; genetics... and maybe just because we have breasts in the first place.
Some types of mastopathy, the milder ones, aren't risky. But the larger, denser, more extensive ones—combined with genetics—set off the alarm bells. That means constant monitoring, every six months, without fail. Stephanie, I'm glad you took such a human approach, made the right call, and are looking after yourself... big hugs.
As for how to lower the risk... A healthy diet packed with leafy greens (kale, spinach, broccoli, chard), then carrots (carotenoids), and antioxidants, like Stella mentioned (Vitamins A, E, and C). No saturated fats—only unsaturated, like olive oil. No grilled meats, no fish (not even seitan or tofu—nothing protein-heavy on the grill), eating soy and soy products, and cutting out milk and dairy...
Regarding chemicals: using progesterone creams (I believe there are creams based on natural progesterone; a friend of mine uses them).
I'll check with my homeopath to see what she thinks about mastopathy and let you know... I don't know, herbalists, compresses... surely people manage it successfully.
Enough of that. Let's move on to sports and music (remember that old radio station?). 😁 What does it mean to be carefree? It means I was rolling around in my bikini 😁 and throwing myself at trans women—God, how did I dare?—and occasionally at men too. 😎 Lucky for me, I move on quickly. 🙂 Just for Ljubi: honey, it was sooo hot, I'm telling you...
I'll be back with some old-fashioned grandma recipes—let's see if they do anything for the tits...
Thanks again for being there, truly, for being with me.
The Cabernet is swaying me gently... just the way it knows how... Cheers to you all... a few rounds 🙂
I went back to read through your posts again—so much encouragement, warmth, kindness, care.... We really are such a great crew. Spanning a hundred different pages, different ages, different ways of thinking... but when someone is struggling, when someone needs support, it’s as if a cocoon of positivity forms around them. At least, that’s how it felt to me being here...
It’s like walking into a local diner where everyone knows your face... And when they see you walk in with slumped shoulders and a heavy heart... everyone just steps up to lift you. Someone gives you a smile to help you stand taller, someone orders you a beer, someone starts a conversation... and suddenly, you feel better.
I feel so light... almost floating 🙂
And I even slathered my chest in the most expensive cream I could find in the house 😎
I know it's probably time for me to move on, browse the Forum, go write something else somewhere else... but I think I'll stay here and celebrate with you all for a little longer... even if it's just in intervals and from a different physical reality... but somehow together...
Chin-chin to everyone whose eyes have read these lines, to everyone who cheered, who was sure everything would be okay, who hoped right along with me, and to everyone who just smiled reading this.. To your health, everyone... to all of us...
Septimus, cheers to you, dear... you'll see that the checkup will show you're healthy, that you're doing fine. We're keeping our fingers crossed tightly for you, hoping right alongside you.
Kimberly Chase54, give Mama a hug for me 🙂
And ladies, seriously, please get those chests checked out. There is no shame in it, for heaven's sake! It can actually be a relief 😎 If anyone doesn't know how, I'll show them, especially if they're from Zion 😁 Or even if they aren't 🙂 Vubiti would kill me, darling, if she read this 😁 Pipanje is Pipanje; as if that has anything to do with gender, damn it, Dea! I can hear her voice already 😁
Alright, one more sip... and I love you all a thousand times over.. and thank you, thank you endlessly
I honestly have no idea how you all deal with this... Just endless words, panic, being terrified, being furious, the sheer nausea—it’s just too much, damn it all ☕
IT'S OVERRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!
I don't have cancer. I refuse to even say that foul, disgusting word. I D O N ' T H A V E I T!!!!
Mark and I were both sobbing and hugging, then I was crying and screaming again, and now I'm laughing, and everything is just... 🙂
God, what a mess I am. I should probably be banned from every single sub-forum, considering I'll likely be sentenced to a year of unpaid internship at a poultry farm just for causing this much drama... my dear little hens 🙂
And everyone just has to suck it up and say: "Yes, dear, you're right..." and A69... 😁
God, thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'll lick up every bit of crap I spat out over there in Elgin via phone, and tomorrow I'll do it in person. I'll bring them flowers, coffee, and some Krispy Kreme donuts and everything!!!!!!
My wife told me over the phone that it isn't cancer, that nothing is malignant, and that I'll get the results tomorrow morning. She wouldn't even try to read them for me, so I'll actually be able to tell you all tomorrow—probably around noon when I'm back—exactly which bastard is messing with my beautiful, healthy girls.
God, I'm so happy!
Casey Palmer5 darling, don't go erasing anything until Septimus gets back with those results. Let him see the chaos we've been through, so it feels less shameful to write about this and cough it all up... otherwise, I'll just end up looking like an even bigger fool. 😁 Ma, I'm such a jerk 🙂
Man, I'd invite you all over for dessert right now—corn on the cob, actually, it's still warm. We'd drink like it was our last night, singing and vomiting because my cocktails would probably make us all sick. 🙂
God, I'm so happy!
Tra-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la... you know what? As much as I was wailing and howling and acting like I was in a coma—it was actually easier to endure it then than it is now, now that you guys have caught the chills too. 😁
God, I'm so happy!
Septimus dear, let's aim for Tuesday. Once you get those results, you'll be on a plane to Zion....
Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you all so, so much. 🙂
And no, ma'am, the results aren't in yet. Call back after two... They told me they'd be ready as soon as possible, most likely Tuesday, yeah.. Most likely..
Screw everyone, and I mean EVERYONE who uses the word "probably" or "likely" just as a way to build a fence around themselves to hide behind! To hell with them!! Seriously.
I mean, probably... What kind of cover-up is this, for God's sake!!!!! How is it that I, an expert at spotting cover-ups, never saw this coming???????
Oh, my dear Septimus, you've made my morning so much softer with that text. And you know, I'll be there, I KNOW how these last few days are going to feel for you... I know how it is, my dear. And you know, people are right when they say the worst part doesn't even hurt, because it really is true. It’s probably just a cyst or some fatty tissue, just like what my own results will show.
I just need them to GIVE it to me, damn them! So I can READ that it's nothing! And I swear on my life, I will never again say my girls' hips are small just to make them sound bigger, or for this, or for that. They are the most beautiful in the world because they nourished my little guy for two years, and even if they weren't—they're still the most beautiful in the world!!! And the healthiest in the world! They'll be the healthiest forever and I love them so much!
I know it isn't two yet, but maybe I'll call anyway, though I'd just end up breaking out in a cold sweat!
Casey Palmer5, it isn't courage; I'm just a damn good liar. 😢
It's Tuesday, but it feels too early to call them. Honestly, I can't believe they won't have the results by 4:00. Or should I call anyway? Fine, let's try this: "Good morning, I'm calling because you mentioned the results would likely be ready Tuesday..." Where's my coffee? Not yet, too early... Okay, I'll call back later. Maybe in ten minutes. "Hello, I'm checking in again, are the results ready?" And so it goes, waiting until they finally give me the biopsy result...
I suspect they’d tell me I’m healthy in the body, but a mess in the head... which is true enough, I suppose. You'll see eventually...
My boy came home from sea... he's completely different now. 🙂 Whenever he goes away with the scouts, he comes back bigger, more mature, I don't know... changed. 🙂 They were out at the Montana Ranch, and during the program, they were paired up with kids with special needs. He was in a room with one of those girls—a blind girl—alongside his Laurie. They were treated as equals in the activities, with help, obviously. It was a brilliant move, a great initiative. 🙏 Everyone walked away with something; everyone is in such an incredible headspace after this camp. They gained lessons, insights, and a sense of humanity that's now etched into them for life.
It seems like Mickey and I are the only ones awake here in Trenton. He's guarding the window, probably watching other mice, while I'm guarding my keyboard, acting as the last line of defense against the fear.
And I feel like I'm falling apart. 😢
It's as if this ice stone near my navel acts like a magnet, constantly pulling in a massive, grey, steel pillar of ice that swallows me whole. Everything outside of it—my legs, my arms, my head—just hangs there limp like a doll's, flailing into the void...
Then, "I" whisper to the ears on this shaky head: Listen, my ears, to the cricket chirping outside... somewhere in the distance, maybe a bird makes a sound... listen to the rustle of the leaves as the wind moves through the canopy... And nose, breathe deep the crisp night air beneath the wild chestnut tree, the warm darkness of the quiet meadow... And slowly, bit by bit, I slip out of that frozen pillar of fear that keeps me paralyzed and stone-cold...
But the fear is still there, making me nauseous, nervous, and furious... Yet, I can hear that cricket... God, thank you for these ears, this nose, these eyes...
I am so angry... and I want to cry. A lot.
Hey, did Kimberly Chase54 say anything about her mom's results? Kimberly, where are you? What happened? Is everything okay?
Who else would I talk to like this if it weren't for this Forum...
Whatever, I won't torture myself trying to sleep anymore. I'll read. Or better yet, I'll grab something to eat, crawl back into bed, and then read... It doesn't matter if I read the same page over and over again... Actually, no. I'm going for a walk around the building. Yeah, that'll do me good. The windows are wide open; I might even hear Mark if he decides to hit the restroom in the next few minutes. Hey, did any of you kids get woken up when you had to go to the bathroom? That was his big thing. He learned to go on his own, but he always had to "check in," no matter how dead of a night it was: "Mama, I'm going to pee!" 😁 I swear, I just wanted to squeeze him, my little angel. 🙂
I'm going, I'm going outside, I'm going to do something... I'm going... UGH...
I’m just a plain, unrefined brute; someone really ought to scrub me clean with some Ajax and a wire brush...
The flies are driving me insane while I type this... Honestly, what is it with them? Why are there living ones buzzing around my head, and why are the dead ones practically everywhere... who is the bastard behind these flies????
Fine. Friday is here. Now we just wait for the sun to come up... In the morning, as soon as I wake up, I think the best thing would be to grab my bike and ride out toward Eljuga—starting from Trnskog, through Jarun, then over to Škorpikov 😎 then taking the bypass behind the bakery to hit the Suburbs, heading old school toward the rotor, then down to Žitnjak and Oki, circling the Okipori plant, and then, once I've finally died on the pedals, coasting lazily up the Bukovački hill in Eljuga...
At that point, I won't care what happens, how long it takes, or when the results arrive... because honestly, until then, I'll just be riding my bike along the Milky Way and those nearby mountain bike trails.
Kimberly Chase54, I have no idea when the results will be in; I was too afraid to ask. Imagine the first scenario—they're ready in two weeks (making it up, obviously). I’d die of anticipation in two weeks. Not even Godot was waited for for two weeks... Or the complete opposite—that, by some miracle, the results are ready tomorrow. I don't think I'd have the guts to even make it home; I'd just sit there waiting.
Whatever happens, it's Friday. So play the battle drums, Dea.
Everything will be decided tonight, though I won't know it yet. It's like the screenwriter is about to put a period at the end of the final sentence. The sample has been taken, and so far, it's all still a gamble... Until the sample is actually taken, there's room to maneuver with all sorts of possibilities, combinations, and improvisations. The betting parlor is wide open because there are a hundred different ways this could go. Tonight, it’s just two turns—okay, and it’ll be okay, despite all the damn hassle.
My fingers are way too big for this tiny laptop keyboard; I keep hitting two keys at once and having to fix them. Too big for the keyboard, too small for the bourbon... what on earth am I even doing typing this right now???
Today is Friday. Today is Friday, Dea. We just need the day to actually break. Then it will truly be Friday.
Didn't I tell you he brought me a new saucer to kiss? Red! My heart, he chose such a beautiful one. Ladies, want to take my new ride for a spin? 🙂
Bless the ostriches and their heads in the sand. Good for them. Maybe in the next life, I'll be an ostrich??? 😁
Look at me: jumping out of a plane onto a few rocks with nothing but a shroud over my head. Then, out of nowhere, sinking into some wicked depths of the ocean with oxygen tanks on my back. Then I hoist all the sails, including the spinnaker, driven by this intense urge to catch the wind and fly right over Nantucket, for instance. Anyway, to make a long story short, I'm struggling in the air, on land, and underwater, and here I am freaking out over one little thing, Friday, a needle, some lab results... whatever! I'm such a coward! Truly!
Despite all the profanity and the way the words feel thick in my mouth when I say them, I don't feel any better. 😢 If only I were small, so small... curling up in his arms while my body makes a home... just snuggling and sighing until morning...
I'm going to listen to the Magical one. You should always listen to her. I'll pour a glass of wine and let the red flow into me. To everyone's health, cheers!
Things are looking up today. Thank God it’s already Wednesday. Only two more days of riding this emotional roller coaster before the weekend hits.
Honestly, I should just sing it: Up and down the ladder we go... 😁
But seriously, people say that when women hit a climax, they feel some kind of intense surge—is it anything like this mood swing I'm having right now? 😲
What am I even going to be like then, for God's sake??????
I mean... it sounds terrifying. 😁
Should I cross out the days with red or green? Or maybe alternate colors for every other day? Maybe yellow would work too, just to frame them? Or perhaps some purple shading... Or should I just eat the calendar? Though, I bet it would taste better if I marked the days with those Goja 🙂 pastels. I think I'm losing my mind.😁
Friday morning... and finally, the suspense will be over. At last.
Today? Not great. Just feeling sour, as Linda would say. My moods shift as fast as storm clouds racing across the sky.
The nerves are getting to me... and I tend to snap at everyone when I'm like this. I can't hold onto a single thought for even ten minutes. It’s all just one polarity after another. Honestly, how many different people am I supposed to be? Today, even the most fractured personalities seem stable compared to me...
Tomorrow should be fine, I suppose. Morning always has this certain magic that I somehow, invariably, fall for every single time.
I guess it's official now. Some lady back in Eljuga gave me the nod for Friday, so there it is. My name is probably sitting in some digital file on their computer somewhere...
Just talking nonsense, forgive me...
I'm going to go mope at a movie theater and then grab an ironing board to do some actual work.. Something productive..
Later, I'll treat myself to some blackberry wine that Goja brought over.. Girls, the chemistry in that stuff is wild. It hits you right in the forehead. I have exactly five minutes of peace in my pajamas before the kick sets in and makes me lose feeling in my legs 😁
Logging on from someone else's computer for a moment...
We have another female member joining us... her name is Jaccomini 🙂
Who is she to me? What's her deal? I'll let her tell you all about it when she's ready... but here's a little hint: plenty of work ahead, and things are getting complicated 🙂
I won't dwell on that too long...
I finally got the news regarding Mengu 🙏 Which basically means that in a few days (this Friday, to be exact), I’m heading in to get a biopsy sample.
Honestly, now that Jaccomini is by my side, I feel brave enough that I'm not even afraid 🙂 So, regarding that whole situation, all I can say is... ladies, I am doing totally fine 👍
The monthly cycle is starting to irritate me, thank God. It hasn't actually arrived yet, but the warning signs are there. Like sitting in an airport terminal, just staring blankly at the departure screen 🙂
It’s almost Gandhian in its subtlety—no unnecessary drama—but I can feel my monthly shift coming on: first that nervous flutter in my gut, then the stiffness in my walk, as if someone drove a spike right through my spine Then comes the nausea, the occasional vomiting... a series of cramps... a slight fever... And finally, that one morning where my fingers aren't twice their normal size and my nose isn't swollen 🙂 Sure, when the swelling in my fingers, joints, abdomen, and nose subsides—so does the volume in my chest
Looking at how things stand, I might be ready for the egg retrieval this Friday. Thursday being a day off is a bit of a nuisance, but whatever. One day more or less... Look at me talking nonsense now that the numbers have 🙄 I should probably admit that the needles and the retrieval process scare me a little; I could be crucified and burned at the stake for it... but I won't tell you that 🙂
Anyway, did you know it’s best to check your breasts while lying down?
Lie flat on your back. Take the arm on the side you're checking (god, how does that even sound!) and throw it above your head, elbow up, with your palm resting behind your head. (Note—if you have breasts my size, what little you have will be stretched tight over your ribs, so you'll mostly just be feeling for any potential lumps 😁) Oh, and before you start, coat your chest in oil so your hands glide easier over the skin. Then move in a circular motion, from the outer edges toward the center.
Many women have written in saying everything feels suspicious. But that’s usually just how it feels when everything is fine. 🙂 Yes, everything is uneven and lumpy, sometimes slightly tender, but when SOMETHING is wrong—it stands out. How? It really does. You just realize it isn't that same texture you feel with all those other lumps. It's either different under the fingers, or it "moves" differently under the fingers... It is truly different. There's also a different sensation in the breast itself when you touch it. When you touch the skin, the gland, the area around the nipple, or the nipple itself (how am I supposed to write this without sounding overly philosophical?), it’s as if there is a "communication" between the breast and your hand. Essentially, the hand feels it, and the breast feels it. They connect. At the site of a "suspect," that connection is missing. You only feel it with your hand. Just that.
Something like that.
Of course, nothing has to be there. For instance, on my right side, there is just a cyst. For a 38-year-old who breastfed for two years, I'm doing alright. Just one tiny cyst. If I didn't have it, maybe my breasts would be even smaller. 🙂 Hmmm... I'm starting to get on my own nerves with these stupid jokes about "having no boobs." It's getting pathetic.
By the way, I've been cleaning out the house quite a bit. I think the sanitation workers were cursing me out late this morning while they were hauling the bins out. Since Friday, I've been steadily loading them up 🙂 Okay, I set some aside too. A little something for the kids, which I'll take to Mark's place later. In the house, it smells like a fresh breeze on a porch in the suburbs, making it "easier to breathe." 🙂
What can I say. Yes, I'm scared. Still, over and over again. And I know it's nothing, and that the left side is just a cyst too—it's just so small and still forming... so I can't just declare it a cyst with total certainty. So instead, I'll just pinch it and say: "Listen here, little thing, you've caused quite a stir, don't you dare do this again..." Or I'll tell the rest of the squad: stop obsessing over whether we're going to multiply or not—that's not how this works. Either show up or stay gone, so we know exactly who you are and what you're about...
Panic sets in. It gets so overwhelming that I find myself throwing open the windows just to take a deep breath—only for the sweltering heat outside to hit me and make everything feel even heavier. Then I just start laughing at myself. Why all the drama? Why the constant, unnecessary theatrics?
Sometimes I laugh a little too loud. Honestly, I’m being fake. A total fraud. When I catch myself acting, I just mock my own performance and stop the charade. Thank God He is so genuine. A rock. Just himself. Thank you for that.
What else is there? Technically, I’m on vacation, but I’m still stuck working... One more thing to wrap up... And then tomorrow, a few more hours to finish something else... It never ends.
Heading home, Dad.
p.s. I wanted to **bold** that part about breast self-exams—but I have no clue how... I even went to the office to figure it out. Whatever, it doesn't matter.
...heading out to tackle some heavy housework.. Gonna put my hands to work—lots of work—just to keep my brain from spiraling...
Actually, I don't even like what I wrote above...
It’s fighting me. Honestly, it is!!!
Forget it, it isn't even an argument. It feels like PMS is starting to take the wheel... if only that were true! Which would mean I'm heading in for egg retrieval soon.
I ate such a massive amount of food today that it's probably just PMS. Which means a desperate hunt for chocolate is imminent in a few hours 🙂
I'm heading to the Museum of Contemporary Art to look for a small wooden barrel. I've decided to try making my own clotted cream this weekend. Maybe it'll actually turn out better than the stuff from the local deli! I'll check back in a few days (give or take five days after the last batch).
And what does that have to do with breasts, for God's sake!!!!!!! Rachel Jackson39, absolutely nothing... I'm just talking nonsense. Bear with me.
Nat, thanks for the hug... but honestly, I just froze while reading... do you realize how much time has passed since then? 😲 Man, how time flies...... when life turns on you like that. And when you're stuck waiting....
darkviper5, have a wonderful time on your anniversary trip. It was smart to get those exams done before the break. Now all that anxiety has retreated into a hole and stopped buzzing around in your head: *hoo-hoo*. You really handled that perfectly! 😁 Swim, soak up the sun, enjoy yourself. When you get back—and this place will be full of jokes, wit, and confetti once more... well, you'll see!! 😉
Sam Gonzalez67, thanks for the support. Are you still working in genetics? If so, you have a fascinating job. More of a calling, at least, from where I'm standing 🙂
Kimberly Chase54, I'm keeping everything crossed for Mom! Actually, I'm keeping everything crossed for all of us 🙂 Pope
Sam Gonzalez67 said:Look, I’ll try to simplify this... there are two ways breast cancer can be hereditary. One follows a 'vertical' pattern—grandmother, mother, daughter, and so on. But with that type, the disease tends to strike at an earlier age in each subsequent generation... 😢
With the other type, you don't see that vertical line. Instead, affected family members are just scattered throughout the pedigree... though they still show up much more frequently than in unrelated families...
The reason I'm telling you this is because if we're looking at a hereditary form—especially that first kind—your younger sister should definitely be getting preventative screenings...
By the way... was there any ovarian cancer in the family, or anything similar?
Ugh. 😢
There's logic to it, I suppose... My grandmother was already quite old when it actually started growing in her breast—when did it truly begin? Who knows. With older patients, the progression is usually much slower... My mother was maybe my age, but I don't know for certain... I just know I was an adult by then. Around 38? Somewhere in that ballpark, probably... Who the hell knows. 😢
Anyway, my younger sister (she's 14 years younger than me) is a nurse. She even told me herself that cancer is a "beast"... and that while we might carry the gene in our genome, having the gene doesn't guarantee the outcome, but it means it could come for us too. That's why we've been so hyper-focused on screenings, tests, the whole thing... But that's also why this irrational fear is hitting me so hard right now. 😢
No, as far as I know, there hasn't been any ovarian cancer. Everyone else in the family has dealt with kidney issues (except me, apparently), hemorrhoids (not me either, not even during childbirth), and everyone has large breasts... unlike me, obviously. 😠
Sam, do you happen to know more about genetics? Is it possible for cancer to be recessive, appearing only when two recessive genes meet in a chromosome pair? Or is it a dominant type where you're just screwed, to put it bluntly?
And I'll head over to the Eljuga Clinic soon, where they'll take what little peace I have left... and then the biopsy will tell me it's nothing. But once they see me, I won't be able to handle that blow, too. It’s simple math: when you try to quantify life events, or map out your life through numbers... well, this nightmare just won't fit into the equation. It simply won't fit; it's too crowded. It's like trying to merge onto the I-95 during rush hour in the middle of downtown Chicago. Not a chance. You're better off walking. The weather is nice; let them walk. And let me, stuck in the middle of rush hour, be left alone!
I don't know the exact years when my mom was diagnosed, but I know she had surgery on the right side first—a relatively conservative procedure—and then two years later, she had both breasts removed. She has implants now.
My grandmother was 68 when she underwent surgery (between her right breast and armpit), then the whole armpit area, and then it just spread... she passed away four months later.
Mom is still alive.
Since I never lived with her and we don't really have a relationship, she barely answers my questions. I'm basically relying on memory and what my grandmother used to tell me.
I have one sister on my dad's side, 12 years older, healthy.
And one sister on my mom's side, 14 years younger, also healthy.
Mamam didn't have any sisters.
Two of my grandmother's sisters are still alive. Three have passed away; I know one died from cancer. Mirjana, the youngest, as far as I know, doesn't have cancer, or at least didn't... you see, I'll call her!!! Since I couldn't remember, she’s young enough to remember the family situation, or at least have a rough idea!
Flala Klara, you're a lifesaver!!!!!! God, I'm such a klutz! Thanks, again.
Hmm... me, and just a few words. It's a struggle. 🙂
Work is absolutely crushing me lately. Honestly? It’s probably for the best. At least it keeps me from sitting around wallowing or overanalyzing my own life. I head out in the morning like I’m heading into a coal mine, and by the time I get home, I'm exhausted. My brain feels completely fried, just totally spent. I end up sitting there, staring blankly at the remnants of my own panic, fear, and sadness... watching them drift through my mind like spiderwebs. The kid is at the beach, so I figured I’d better get everything squared away before my vacation hits. You know what? I used to struggle with finding the right way to put it. How do you even describe that specific kind of avoidance? Was it "running away to work"? Or maybe "hiding out in some cave"? I'd tell myself they were just burying their head in their work like an ostrich in the sand. It’s hard to find the words sometimes, isn't it?
Just watch how quickly everyone turns tail and runs when things get real—when they face a fight they simply can't win by brute force alone. Where is all that supposed heroism then?
You can't exactly fight the fear head-on. You either deflect it or you let it dance around you—let it spin in circles, maybe even join in for a little bit just to satisfy its ego. Let it snatch whatever small thing it wants while your back is turned. Don't say a word to it. Honestly? I think that’s exactly how it feeds. It grows on the silence. It gets heavier, more bloated, by the minute. Maybe just offer a dry "good morning, you little jerk" or a "good night, you creep." Just enough to acknowledge it's there, circling me like it always does. But don't ever open the door. Not even an inch. Not a single crack. Maybe I should just tell him: Look, I see you. They told me you were assigned to me. My god, you’re massive. But listen—you are THERE, and I am HERE, standing entirely on my own. You get that, Mr. Fear? We are separate entities, each with our own philosophy, our own needs, our own loves... and frankly, I have no desire for us to bleed into one another.
So, I say something to him, he says plenty back to me, and then I just swallow my pride and walk away. Just biting my tongue and getting out of there. Day by day, the deadline gets closer. For God's sake, who's even going to be there to meet him? I can't stand waiting. Honestly, I hate it. The impatience gets under my skin—it’s actually painful. Sometimes, if I'm being truthful, I become downright unbearable. Is there anything more aggravating? I know exactly what this is. It’s just those guys at the top with their beards deciding I need a little lesson in patience—or maybe waiting, or salvation... who knows? They’ve managed to stir up some serious panic in my head. Realistically, nothing's actually serious yet. So, what am I supposed to do? Just wait for Dea? I can only imagine how much patience I’d need to pull that off. To actually stand there in some endless line at the DMV, just waiting my turn with a halo of zen-like calm around my head? Not happening. 🙂 Oh man, how can I even say this? Honestly, I'm actually embarrassed.
Then I’ll be working like a dog. This coming weekend? It’s all about skating and swimming until I drop. Next week is the real grind—getting the apartment ready for new windows, packing everything into boxes. And how many times will I find myself staring at some old rag, a chipped mug, or a stray screw and think, "No, I can't toss this"? Because we all know the drill: the second it hits the trash, it’ll be exactly what I need. Or I'll fall for that even bigger lie: "I'll just fix it myself." 🙂 I swear, I’ve tried everything to shake this feeling. It’s like I’m constantly twitching, just restless, you know? And then there's this sensation at the very top of my spine—just that tiny, millimeter-sized tip—it feels like a shard of ice is lodged right there. Is this just how it goes? 😢
Placidjackal97, I saw you’ve been doing a lot of digging lately... I really hope everything came back clear. I hope you're feeling alright now. And honestly, thanks for the encouragement and for checking in. It’s funny, isn't it? Some people just lurk. They watch from the sidelines. But even those who just read... they have questions. They carry that fear around. Please, feel free to reach out via DM or email if you need to talk. What's the harm? Whether you message someone privately or post here among the few of us... what does it really matter? 🙂 So, honestly? I’m just talking out of turn here...
Hannah Barnes24... thanks for letting me know your mom had such a good experience with Nol. Just one more bit of encouragement to add to the pile. And then he said it to me: Even if things are at their absolute worst, it’s such a small thing compared to how much bigger you both are... And thanks for the push, dear.
Dear Betty Rivera14, I am truly sorry they took that part of you away. It’s a shame they didn't see it coming before the surgery—didn't give you any real time or space to process it. To be able to adjust, to accept... to find some strange way to say "goodbye" to a piece of yourself? They should have let you decide. You should have been the one to choose to undergo an oophorectomy in the name of your own health. Sending you a massive hug.
I keep thinking about it... we women have so much vulnerability built right in. Uteruses, ovaries, breasts... there are just so many sensitive spots where that "beast" can strike. We’re out here plucking leg hairs, grooming everything from our bikini lines to our eyebrows... Painting our hair, our nails, our lashes—basically coloring ourselves from head to toe... And someone might look at all this and say, "Man, being a woman sounds exhausting."
Sure, it is. But would I trade it? Not a chance! 🙂
Hmm... though, just out of pure curiosity, maybe for 24 hours. Just to see what it’s actually like to have that thing tucked in your pants. How do they live? How do they walk or sit with that whole situation hanging between their legs? 😁 And of course, most of all, I want to know what it feels like for them when they shove it into us. 🙂
But then again, maybe that’s a conversation for a different thread, right? Or maybe, despite everything, we should just talk about it right here, in our little "secret" corner away from the guys. 😁
Went to the hospital this morning. I thought I’d finally get the biopsy done today—get the tissue sampled and just be done with that whole chapter of my life. But the kid!
I need to schedule this during the first part of my cycle, when everything feels "empty" and it's easiest to accurately sample the exact tissue that looks suspicious.
I grilled the doctor with questions; he held his ground quite bravely. And the more detailed he was, the more questions I seemed to have. God, Dea! He actually managed to endure my initial wall of arrogance—that mask I wear to hide the black void of fear, the tears, the clumsiness, the mental fog... all that frantic searching. He let me pull myself together and put back on my face: "I'm totally cool." And he didn't resort to those empty platitudes people usually use to escape a conversation. He didn't make promises. He stayed sober, composed, and present. He was 100% there with me in that exam room, dedicated to me and my entire situation—from my job to my family dynamics...
To make a long story short...
The hospital is the gold standard when it comes to physician competence, surgical expertise, and experience with this specific issue... in short, they are number one if I end up needing someone to hold the knife (I'm sticking with the hospital and Dr. Mark).
For diagnostics, he recommended Eljuga Clinic. It’s expensive, sure, but they perform the biopsy under the guidance of a specialized type of mammogram that tracks the needle placement and the sampling process in real-time. It minimizes the chance of error. (darkviper5, Betty Rivera14, thank you both so much for warning me about the possibility of missing the target or getting an insufficient sample. Truly, thank you!).
The odds of it being cancer aren't high. The mammogram showed no microcalcifications, which is a huge point in favor of it being a cyst. But then there's the family history (both my mother and grandmother) and the way this thing "behaves"—this tiny, less-than-half-centimeter nuisance under my fingers. It isn't mobile like a cyst; it's hard. Even the ultrasound couldn't give a definitive answer. Aside from the typical "...hmmm... could be a cyst... I don't know... hmmm..." It confirms the previous ultrasound findings: a 16mm cyst on the right, and a 5mm spot on the left that he isn't entirely sure is a cyst.
Since I had everyone's thoughts printed out and brought with me, I asked him about MRIs, genetic testing, and... everything else.🙂 He said the priority is the tissue biopsy, done in the most precise way possible. Once that's settled, we can look at other tests if necessary.
And damn it, as much as I praise the doc right now, and as much as I feel "softened" by how you all write to me and help me (thank you)—knowing I can come here to vent and dump everything I'm feeling, even the things I shouldn't... even the crying, the fantasizing, and the wide-eyed terror of this stigma that eats at me from the inside... and no matter how much I try to project a better version of myself in photos... through it all...
IT DOESN'T MATTER WHEN THE FEAR IS CONSTANT, dammit!
I wanted to say: screw staying without my "bits," as I call them. But it's not really like that.😢 Look, I would never tell anyone that those few ounces of flesh sitting above my lungs actually matter to me. Mark noticed them, felt them... artificial ones might be bigger or prettier, but honestly, I’d prefer my own small, silly, cheerful, round little bits...
Carol Grant33 tried to comfort me, saying her mom would give up some of hers in a heartbeat if mine were taken away. Carol, it feels like someone whispered to me that I won't have much material left for reconstruction if it comes to that. 🙂
It really hits home. 😢 That expression "it hits home"... it's pure acting. My acting, I mean.
Actually, you know what? I am 99% sure it's nothing. I truly am. When I calm down and look deep inside, I really believe it's nothing. How can that 1% drive this much drama over a 0.5cm piece of tissue before it's even confirmed?😲
You all know how a coordinate system works. Let's just look at the right side of the axis. Everything I’m feeling right now occupies this massive, rolling space in the positives... while there's this tiny area in the negatives, yet marked by these incredibly sharp, jagged spikes plunging deep, deep into the negative zone. As I sit here typing, it feels like I can only touch those cresting waves in the positive territory and those piercing peaks in the negative. It's all actually quite superficial and disconnected. Don't judge me, but I honestly don't know how else to put it.
Truth be told, I know you understand me, and that I tend to write like this. In some way, you've all either lived through something similar, or someone dear to you has, or perhaps you've just tried to take on life with both big and small spoons. Or maybe—and let's face it, you all are—you're just beings with a decent sense of empathy.
Well, now I'm starting to get a bit sentimental. 😎
Dammit, Dea, go do something productive! 🙂 For the record, I'm an honest person; usually, I'm quite the volunteer type, just a cheerful guy in my early forties. I just need to make it to my next period, then I'll head in to get my blood drawn. Once that's done, I'm setting myself a challenge: I'll tell you twenty jokes, five pieces of gossip about myself, and maybe I'll even try a little lighthearted flirting with one of you... just being blunt... anything, really... as long as these next two or three weeks pass.