At the end of week one: choices

Here's one thing I do know: this is the scariest bag of doo-doo I have ever had the pleasure of carrying around.  Lucille not only continues to hang around, she insists on soiling the place.  I yell and scream at her, but she doesn't care.

Yesterday was fatiguing.  I had my first appointment with the surgeon.  She is highly competent and will take the best of care of me.  Of that I have no doubt, amen.  But as a highly competent surgeon, she is supremely busy and was (by no fault of her own due to an emergency situation) several hours late to our appointment.  We were pooped before the real work of hashing out information even began, and at the end, we had a choice to make -- a difficult choice.

You may not know this, but many women with breast cancer are allowed a choice between a lumpectomy with radiation or a mastectomy.  Sometimes you don't get this choice if your cancer is a specific type or too large, but in my situation, I am given that choice.  There are drawbacks and advantages to both, and the risks of recurrence to weigh if a lumpectomy is chosen.  Survivability (a nasty word we only permit to enter our consciousness once a day) is equal with both.  So how do you choose?  I'm told you talk to friends, you talk to survivors, you talk to family, you talk to all your doctors, you talk to the dog if you need to, but you talk, talk, talk.  By the end, my surgeon assures me I will know.

The day did bring some clarity, as I came to a huge revelation on my part and a resounding affirmation from my husband: I am not my breasts.  In fact, I don't even feel the need for an upgrade after surgery.  We (and that pronoun is important) are just fine living the "flat-life-on-deck" if that is where this path leads us.  And for this small bit of clarity and decision, I am feeling thankful and at peace.