So I have a neighbor who used to work in the field of cancer treatment plans. She is not a doctor or a qualified nurse or anything like that. But she constantly tells me that what I have is not cancer. And I shouldn’t need to treat it. Not a lumpectomy. Not a mastectomy. Not radiation. Nothing. There isn’t enough science that backs up DCIS turning into anything that will harm you, she says.
She is hard to avoid at the mailbox. Our kids go to school together. I watch her kids when she needs me to. I am the neighborhood mom who doesn’t say NO. And I am fine with hearing people’s opinions. But this one sticks in my craw. And it has festered. Festered so much, that, this weekend, along with other things boiling over, I broke. I raged. Raged. And scared people. Am I proud of it? No. Am I sorry? No.
I raged because I am not getting the help I need at home. No one is listening to me speak clearly that I need help.
I raged because I’m tired of waiting to decide a decision that will need to be redecided again later. I am tired of being in limbo.
I raged because I am tired. My nipple hurts (that’s normal, my surgeon said, as all the nerve cells start to grow back together).
My husband threatened to call 911 if I didn’t calm down. How is that helpful? He told me I was scaring the kids. How is that helpful? Maybe if they are scared, they will better understand what I am going through? Why should I hide all of it? Why should I pretend like I’m stronger than I am? Why can’t I just be human?
I am seriously contemplating not having any more surgery. None. Just not do anything. Just live with the ski jump that is currently my right boob, and hope that I don’t get any more DCIS, that what DCIS is left is not going to turn invasive.
Because if I do have any other surgery, who the hell is going to help me? I stood in the doorway last week and begged – cried- for help and no help came. Kids ran away and left me standing with too many things. Husband had better things to do. I give up.
What will it take for someone to help? Rage?
There is no conclusion here. I’m just mad.
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