Absence of breast, acquired

There is no real reason for title of this post other than the fact that I was looking through my medical history on the patient portal, and I'm sorry, that is just sort of funny. Absence of breast, acquired. It makes me wonder what other ways there are to acquire an absence of breast other than a mastectomy. LOL.

It has been a long time, I know. As I alluded to in my last post, I've been pretty busy living happily ever after, yada yada yada. But in all seriousness, breast cancer seems like something that happened in the very distant past. It's hard for me to believe that whole trip from hell was just last year. Fortunately, I have Facebook memories to keep me abreast. (Get it? Abreast, hahaha.)

So, after all this time, you might be wondering what inspired me to grace you with my presence today. Well, I just had my first post-mastectomy mammogram. It was about four months overdue, but eh, whatever. Part of me just didn't feel like going and the other part of me just felt like living in ignorant bliss for a while. Plus, I was really insanely busy there for a while. (More on that later, perhaps.) You're probably used to the type of cancer survivor who is hyper vigilant about eating healthy and not drinking and exercising maniacally and getting all her screenings done STAT, but that is not me. I've always been a bit phobic of going to the doctor (especially a new doctor) and having procedures done (especially when they involve undressing) and DUDES, you'd think I'd be SOOOO over that by now, but alas, I am not. In fact, my life is so normal right now, I've just slipped right back to being the old me.

I set up my appointment last week, because the semester is getting ready to start and I'm going to have a rather insane schedule once it does. (More on that later, perhaps.) I figured if I didn't have the mammo done before classes start, I very likely would not have it done until Christmas break, which would be a seriously big no-no. Of course, I forgot about it until this morning, when I was transposing events from my planner onto the family calendar, and I went into a bit of a panic. In the end, it was probably a good thing because I didn't have time to get worked up about it. 

Interestingly, I was pretty surprised by how emotional I got about it. I don't quite understand what emotions I was feeling, but they made me a super jerk when I was filling out the required paperwork and doing the whole registration thing. I calmed down a little once I got back to do the mammogram because the tech was super sweet and has apparently worked with women who have had mastectomies before, so it was hard for me to be mean to her. Ha. After I got the pictures taken (right breast only; apparently the foob is considered safe), I went and waited while the radiologist read them. Apparently having cancer puts you on the fast track, and there's none of this 'We will read your mammogram and get back to you in a week' nonsense.

When I was waiting, I actually started crying. I'm not quite sure why, but I did. Maybe it was because I was overcome with the memory of crying in the same waiting room over a year ago. Or maybe it's because there are a lot of moving parts in my life right now, and I'm a bit overwhelmed by some of them.

Apparently I'm fine, or 'stable' as the tech reported. Ummm, yippee? I could lie and say I was hugely relieved, but I wasn't. I figured I was fine. Fine, as in, there's no mass in my breast. I've been checking occasionally. Having no lumps is good, don't get me wrong, but I don't think I'll rest easy ever again just because I have a clear mammogram. I mean, whatever. 

So now that I sound like I need to check myself into a psychiatric hospital, I should stop. But coming here was a good reminded of how cathartic writing is for me, so I promise to come back soon and write about something other than crying in a waiting room, because there is a lot more to life after cancer than that.