Sometimes, when I sit a certain way, I get this odd pain right around my heart. Over time, I've realized that it's actually the weight of my breasts causing the discomfort. Still, every so often I forget, and for a moment or two am sure that I'm having a heart attack when I sit up.
So I had a surgery date: December 13. I made the appointment and sat on the information for awhile, sure that if I changed my mind at least no one would be the wiser. I figured- if I get scared, I'll cancel. If the surgery starts to take over my life, I'll cancel. If I start to feel too negative about the whole deal, I'll cancel.
But a funny thing happened: after getting the date, my resolve was strengthened.
I had signed up to attend a local gynecological cancers conference where I hoped to meet others like me-- those with a family history of breast cancer who do not actually have cancer. I wanted to sit with a group and ask the question most folks ask me right off: "Aren't you just being paranoid?"
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| {poncho-h&m; cords-j.crew; boots- calvin klein} |
So I had a date. I was all settled. The doc called to reschedule because of a conference. And that's when the shit hit the fan.
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