#81 ·
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.
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.
